The Lion King Pride of Humanity
by Sharks Potter
Summary: In 1917, a group of Allied soldiers led by the courageous Captain Harry Van Owen escape from the trenches by balloon. After being blown to Africa, they find themselves stranded on a mysterious plateau known as the Pride Lands in the middle of the Sahara Desert; a land where talking lions dominate...
1. Chapter 1 Prologue

**Disclaimer: **The characters of the _Lion King_ belong to Disney. I only own the human characters and any parts of this story that aren't in the films. Also, for those of you who read a lot of LK fanfiction, several characters are named after the human characters in other fanfics; I do not own that material and I am only borrowing the names as a tribute to the inspiration their owners provided for this story. Enjoy!

**March 23****rd**** 1913**

Humanity's history is filled with countless tales of explorers penetrating the unknown and discovering the impossible; but not one holds a candle to the tale of the Lion's Plateau in the depths of the Southern Sahara Desert. Even to this day, the majority of the world's most learned men consider it to be nothing more than legend, a myth inspired from local folklore and superstition. Over the centuries, numerous explorers had gone in search of the legendary plateau, but without success, and often perished in the attempt. The first man on the cutting edge was the ambitious explorer Professor Richard Van Owen, on the day he made the most incredible discovery…

A tall, unshaven man in his mid-thirties, wearing a threadbare wilderness uniform, made his way through a valley of scattered elephant skeletons and live thermal vents, heading towards a cliff face that led up to a cave, formed by an ancient split in the rock. Richard Van Owen was a British scientist, a geologist by profession, commonly refereed to as 'an outcast' amongst his colleagues on the Royal Society back home for his eccentric beliefs. Among his obsessions was the journal of the legendary Sir Joshua Cody, which had brought him to this place.

Sir Cody had been a nineteenth century American adventurer and explorer under the employment of the late Queen Victoria, who had come exploring these parts long ago. Upon his return, he had relayed an incredible story of his adventures, which had never been accepted as true - except for Richard, who, following the information in the journal, which he had bought at auction, had rediscovered the legendary plateau. Now, nearly a year later, his explorations of this mysterious land still continued. Following him, carrying some of their heavier equipment, was Makeede, a black Algerian boy whom the professor had hired as his personal aid before venturing into the uncharted regions of the Sahara and discovering the plateau.

Originally part of a larger, joint French/English expedition, whose members had all either perished or deserted from the hardships of their journey through the desert, only Richard and Makeede had made it, and had been exploring the plateau for months now, the former documenting all of his incredible findings, with which he would soon be making up for all those years of scorn and rejection he had endured throughout his career. Having invested his entire family fortune back home to finance this expedition, when his colleagues had bluntly refused to do so, Richard now felt as if he were standing on the threshold of immortality.

With the expedition nearly complete, he only to add one final touch to his findings: collect the samples needed to prove the geological potential of this place. This, combined with his other discoveries, which he intended to reveal to the world upon his return, gave him every confidence that he would be going down in history as the great scientist and explorer he always envisioned himself.

Holding a kerosene lantern to light their way, Richard led the way up a landslide of bones that formed the only stepping stones up the side of the cliff, towards the cave entrance. Above them, the moon shone brightly in the night sky, a total silence filling the air. Exhaling from the extra load he was carrying for his master, Makedee suddenly paused as he became aware of the curious silence of the burial ground below them. Having grown up in Algeria as a peasant, he could 'read' the sounds in the wild - and a deathly silence like this usually meant imminent danger. He turned to his employer who was already examining the cliff walls with his hammer and chisel.

"Master Richard, this bad place. Place of devil. Please remember King Ahadi's warning! Let us go!" he whispered in broken French, the only language in which he could communicate with his master.

"Oh, confound it, will you swallow your tongue, Makeede! Ahadi may fear this place but I don't – and what he doesn't know won't hurt him. We must have those samples! Without them, this entire expedition will have been for nothing… Now, where did Mufasa say that vain was?" He stared into the mouth of the dark cave, "Let's go this way. Come on!"

With his servant still on edge, the two companions ventured into the cave. Richard went up ahead, his eyes hungrily scanning the rock formations of the cave walls. The passage widened as they ventured inside, until they hit an obstacle; a vertical wall, formed by a massive collapsed rock, stood before them, the continuation of the cave visible on a ledge above. Suddenly, Richard saw it: A deposit of the finest diamonds imaginable, which had been brought to the surface over millennia of geological shifting in the depths of the mountain, were imbedded in the granite walls. A fortune had literally just been presented to them on a platter.

"Eureka! Taka was right! Makeede, get the camera ready!" While Makeede nervously set up Richard's Kodak on its tripod, and inserted the plates, the scientist started furiously chiselling away at the walls, gathering his priceless samples in a leather pouch around his neck. Unfortunately, neither of them noticed the many sets of beady, gleaming eyes watching them from the shadows, silently approaching…

Having filled his pouch with all the samples he could gather, Richard rejoined his assistant who had finished setting up the equipment, yet continued to stare nervously around the dark cavern, "Master, please, let us go now…"

"No time for your superstitions now, my lad! Time for a toast, finally!" replied Richard, taking out a bottle of champagne from his backpack, which he had been saving for this moment, and filled two tin cups, "To success, my friend, and to science!" he said, passing his assistant a cup and proposing a toast. Unpacking a portable phonograph, he inserted a Beethoven cylinder and the opera music filled the cavern. Laughing like a kid in a candy store, he drunkenly gulped down his drink, refilling his cup as he did, dancing a jig, "May those charlatans of the Royal Society kiss my boots when they see this!"

Suddenly, he realised he was alone; Makeede was nowhere to be seen. Richard frowned; his assistant was not the type to desert him like that. Sliding the stylus off the cylinder to stop the music, he called, "Makeede, where are you, boy?" The reply was some sinister laughter coming from the mouth of the cave, chilling him to the bones, "Hyenas…"

Dropping the champagne bottle, he grabbed his Lee Enfield rifle and approached the entrance, brandishing the weapon as he went. Suddenly, he spotted a hand projecting from behind a boulder. Thinking Makeede might have tripped and hurt himself, he reached out to him. "Makeede, what's the matter…? Oh, Lord…!

The shock awaiting the scientist made his insides turn to ice, as the bloody limb came away loosely in his hand - he had found his assistant's _severed arm_! Ragged flesh and splintered bone protruded from the elbow, from where the arm had been ripped clean off Makeede's body. And the trail of fresh blood leading away told him everything; while he had been celebrating, his assistant had been attacked unawares, his screams for help undoubtedly having been muffled by that loud phonograph. Then, Richard heard it again; hyena laughter, all around him.

He barely had enough time to cock his rifle, a mixture of fear and rage building up inside him, when he finally saw it; several hyenas emerging from the shadows, approaching him in attack. The blood dripping from their jaws told him they were the ones that had killed Makeede. Richard narrowed his eyes in rage, "Die, you miserable bloody bastards!" He opened fire, killing one hyena after another until he run out of rounds. Reaching into his pocket for more ammunition, he found there was nothing there but his watch! While he had been celebrating, he had removed his heavy appliance belt, including his ammunition pouch, which was now back in the cave with his pack. Meanwhile, he could see those wretched creatures getting closer, moving in for the kill.

With no route of escape, he darted away back into the cave, going for his backpack, for his spare ammunition. But before he could get there however, he felt something grab hold of his waistcoat, followed by another tug on his arm. In an instant, he was pinned down by the hungry pack, which started gnawing and clawing at him, mauling him. In spite of his pain, the bloodied and battered Richard managed to shake them off by bashing them in the head with the barrel end of his shotgun. Seeing his only chance of escape, he bolted for the far wall. If he could only make it up to that ledge…

Struggling frantically, his attackers closing in fast, to renew their attack, he managed to find some footing, his fingers grabbing hold of the edge of the ledge above. Before he could pull himself up however, he felt the hyenas' jaws grab hold of his legs in a painful grip, dragging him back down. No matter how hard he kicked, they were too many of them to shake them off.

Just as he thought he was doomed, he suddenly saw another figure emerge from the shadows on the ledge above. A feeling of relief swept over him as he recognised a familiar face, "Taka! Oh, thank God! Help me, I am slipping…!"

His relief instantly turned to horror as he read the traitorous expression in the figure's green eyes, who sneered, "What has happened to my father and brother's favourite? You ask the help of the lowly prince who shall never be king, because he is always bested by his older brother? Such irony, wouldn't you agree, my dear Richard?"

"Wh… Why are you doing this? What did I ever do to you?" asked Richard, unable to believe what he was seeing. What was young, shy Taka, whom he had befriended along with his brother and parents, playing at? The figure smiled sinisterly.

"Because I am tired of growing up knowing that I will always be nothing but my step-family's hanger-on; and with you around, my brother's position as future king would be secure forever. On the other hand, your demise should bring Mufasa's capabilities as the heir to the throne under question, when it comes out that he led you to your death by telling you about this place. Such a shame; the brave and responsible Prince Mufasa kills the Royal Guardian with his big mouth!" Too late, Richard realised Taka had been plotting to kill him all along, to use his death as an excuse to disgrace his older brother, who had indeed, confidentially, told him about the diamonds.

"You little bastard set me up!" Richard snapped in furious outrage, "Ahadi will kill you when he finds out…!" But Taka only chuckled cruelly as he suddenly dug his claws into Richard's hands, causing the man to cry out in pain.

"I think not, Richard. As you humans say, 'dead men tell no tales.' And that dead man who is to take the truth with him…is _you_!" Without another word, he turned to the crowd of hungry hyenas still waiting below.

"Shenzie, Banzai, Ed, my faithful friends, dinner is served!" Giving the helpless Richard a shove, he sent the man plummeting straight into the midst of the hungry pack of hyenas.

In an instant, Richard was once again subjected to the agony of being mauled alive; the hyenas were ruthless as they tore bites out of his flash, ripping him to pieces. As he rolled over, soaked in his own blood, desperately trying to shake off the killer scavengers, his body collided with the camera tripod. The camera, which Makeede had set up only minutes ago, toppled over; as it hit the ground, a protruding rock grazed the snap button, taking an accidental photo of the hyenas feasting on Richard's dead body, his murderer watching from the background with sickening delight…

**Author's notes:** This is my first LK fanfic. For those of you that are great fans of LK fanfics, the character Joshua Cody is a name borrowed from _Crossing Boundaries_ by Hewylewis. However, please bear in mind that is not a sequel or a spin-off to that story and the Cody mentioned here is only a borrowed name. Please review and I will update faster! REVIEWS ARE INSPIRATION! Enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2 Escape

**March 23 1917 **

Since the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife in 1914 had been locked in a long and bitter conflict, which would go down in history as the First World War. England and Germany, the leading powers of the two opposing sides, had already been at war for three long years. Every soldier, of every ethnicity, fighting on the Front could only do his best to survive one day longer in the hell known as the trenches. At least, that was the motto of Captain Harry Van Owen, a British staff officer stationed in southern France.

Harry was the twin brother of Richard, who had long since been presumed dead, lost in the depths of the Sahara. With flaming red hair and a square jaw, identical to his twin's, Harry was the reflection of his missing brother. However, in contrast to Richard, who had been a man of science, Harry was a soldier, and one well worth his salt at that. Originally a surgeon at the London Hospital, his career had ended badly a few years ago when he had accidentally let one of his patients, the young son of a lord, die from a misdiagnosis. Although not jailed for involuntarily manslaughter, the Board of Medicine, fearing a scandal, had officially disqualified him as a man of medicine. And with his brother investing their inheritance to finance his crazy expedition to Africa, and never returned, had caused the Van Owen estate to be lost to the bank. Harry, left penniless and forbidden from practicing his profession anymore, had joined the army just before the beginning of the war with Germany.

As a soldier, he had soon proven himself to be top of his game and, over the next few years, had risen to the rank of Captain. After being given command of his own squadron, he had continued restlessly leading his men through endless months of fighting, bombings, gas attacks, hunger, and bloodshed in the trenches. Then, a few days ago, his squadron had run foul of a German ambush when climbing over the top, and gunned down. Only Harry and one of his men, Private Danny Mensh, had survived and were taken prisoner by the enemy.

Their prison was a filthy dugout in the enemy trench, waiting to be transferred to a more secure facility, to await either a prisoner-of-war exchange, or be executed at the Kaiser's pleasure. Their fellow prisoners were Slayn Wilde, an Australian marine who had gotten separated from his squadron in the Battle of Gallipoli and attempted to make his way to the Allied Front by stowing away on enemy trains, only to be intercepted by the Germans when crossing the border into France. Ayden Stone was an American war correspondent, who had been sent along with reinforcements from the United States. Believing himself immune as a civilian, he had been caught trespassing close to a hidden enemy bunker and arrested as a spy. Finally, there was Mikhail 'Mick' Petrofsky, a Russian soldier who had been captured by the enemy during the Battle of the Marne and was being transported to Germany.

Upon the arrival of Harry and Danny, the five men had joined forces, plotting their escape, with Harry as their leader. After taking a few days to study the German movements and the security of their prison, Harry had determined that simply overpower the guard and attempting to run for it would be suicide; there were German troops stationed everywhere, within a mile radius of the dugout, manning machine guns. Furthermore, they had all been warned by their captors that any attempted escapees were always shot on sight without warning, to prevent anyone from escaping with information on the enemy defences.

Harry had been unable to find a loophole that they could use to their advantage, until a few days ago, when he had spotted a gas balloon used by the Germans for enemy surveillance, moored behind some trees only a few yards away from the dugout. Although it would still mean a great risk reaching it and getting it airborne before they were shot down, everyone was determined the take the risk. Their chance had arrived this very evening, with the outbreak of a storm that had reduced visibility to only a few yards, giving them enough cover to reach the balloon. As soon as the storm was in full force, with the barren, blown-up plains of the trenches engulfed in a thick mist from the pouring rain, Harry signalled it was time to do or die.

Approaching the entrance, they saw a lone guard was stationed just outside their prison, caressing a sword, which Harry recognised as his own, which the Germans had confiscated from him upon his capture. It was perfect; with all the thunder and the splashing of the falling rain, which muffled the sound of their boots on the muddy floor of the dugout, Harry suddenly lunged forward and grabbed the unsuspecting guard by the neck. Danny, Slayn, Ayden and Mick followed suit and grabbed his arms; in an instant, the guard lay lifeless on the ground, strangled. Quickly stripping the dead German of his weapons, they cautiously made their way out of the trench, on their knees, heading towards where they hoped the balloon was still moored and waiting for them.

Crawling on their stomachs to avoid detection, they slowly made their way across the field, which was infested with a sea of corpses of soldiers that had been gunned down in attempted attacks on the German trench. Fighting the urge to be sick from the stench of the unburied dead, as well as the appalling sight of all the disembowelled, dismembered and disfigured bodies lying rotting around, food for the rats, they finally saw it: the bulbous outline of the balloon, being knocked to and fro by the wind, firmly anchored to the ground by several mooring lines. Harry called a halt as he spotted half a dozen soldiers sitting under the cover of some nearby trees, guarding it,

"We can't take them all with only one rifle and a pistol. Even if we kill some, the rest of those Krauts would gun us down in an instant."

"Can't we double back and salvage some more weapons from those poor blighters back there?" suggested Slayn, gesturing towards the dead soldiers lying in the field they had just crossed, "There might be something useful…"

"No, there is no time for that; any second now, someone back at the trench is going to find out we've escaped and sound the alarm. We are going to have every bloody Kraut firing on us with those Lewis guns. If we had the means of creating some kind of distraction… Wait a moment…"

Going through the utility belt he had stripped off the German guard they had just killed, he took out a grenade. Pulling the pin out, Harry tossed it a safe distance away from the balloon, where it detonated. The soldiers were instantly on their feet, firing in the direction of the explosion, thinking they were under attack, their backs turned to the Allied soldiers. Seizing the opportunity, Harry and Slayn raised the pistol and rifle they had stolen from their guard, and opened fire.

The German guards, caught by surprise from this new attack and having wasted their ammunition shooting at the decoy, started dropping like flies. In an instant, they all lay dead on the ground, like the soldiers in the field. But Harry and his men had no time to rejoice as the commotion had alerted every other soldier in the vicinity; shouting and sounds of gunshots could be heard from all around. Harry turned to his companions.

"Run for your lives! To the balloon!"

Running past the bodies of the dead Germans they had just gunned down, they all grabbed hold of the sides of the basket and pilled in; Slayn went first, followed by Ayden, Danny and Mick. Harry was about to climb in too, when suddenly, another German appeared out of nowhere, catching him by surprise. Striking him across the face with the barrel of his pistol, he climbed into the basket, trying to stop the escape, only to be overpowered when he realised his gun had jammed. Harry pulled himself up from the ground, just as the outlines of more Germans appeared through the mist.

"Cut the lines!"

As if inspired by his own words, he drew his sword and cut through the first two mooring lines, while Ayden cut a third one using the bayonet from their rifle. Suddenly, the balloon soared upwards. Harry, who hadn't managed to climb onboard in time, found himself hanging over the side of the basket, desperately clinging onto the loose mooring line for dear life. His companions grabbed hold of his arms and pulled him onboard, just as bullets flew upwards towards them; reinforcements had arrived and, determined not to let their prisoners escape with their precious balloon, were attempting to shoot them down.

"Lighten the basket! We've got to gain height!" They dropped several sandbags, which hit some of the soldiers standing below, but the rest continued firing at them. Harry felt a trickle of sweat fall from his brow, "If the balloon gets punctured, we'll plummet straight back to the ground! Return fire with everything you've got!"

Using their only rifle and two pistols, the men desperately returned fire, killing or injuring many of those down on the ground below; but the rest continued firing, aiming directly for the envelope, until Harry slit open one of the sandbags with his sword, creating a rain of sand, blinding several Germans who caught it in the eyes, preventing them from firing.

Soon, the sound of gunfire died away as they reached a safe altitude and were able to catch their breaths. Then they remembered the German soldier, still lying unconscious on the floor of the basket. Harry frowned, remembering how this fellow had struck him in the jaw with his pistol, "All right, let's get rid of this Kraut!"

They picked him up and prepared to drop him over the edge, but hesitated; they were already at least a mile up, which would spell out a very gruesome death for the German. It was then that they realised that they had an even bigger problem to worry about; in they hastiness to escape, they had forgotten to take into account one little factor: _they had no pilot_! None them had ever flown any type of aircraft, and had no idea how to control this contraption that was now keeping them floating above hostile territory. Letting the balloon up by cutting it loose was easy enough but getting it _down_ again was a different story.

"Maybe this fellow knows something more about flying this thing? Maybe we could bargain with him?" Ayden suggested. Harry nodded in agreement, "All right, tie him up!" Using a stray length of cord, they fashioned some handcuffs and tied the German's hands securely together. Then they proceeded to take inventory of what they had.

With regards to weapons, they had one rifle, two pistols, a sword and a bayonet. Their ammunition was likewise limited, but it would suffice until they could reach safety. With regards to food, the backpacks of their guard and their prisoner contained a few rations and the canteens were full; overall, enough to sustain the six of them for maybe three days. A small kerosene lamp would provide them with light for the night. A compass was their one navigation instrument. Meagre, but sufficient.

"So, where do we go, Captain?"

Before Harry could answer, at that moment, the German began to stir. Harry took charge, "You're my prisoner. Let's hear your name and rank!" The German hesitated, as if uncertain if he should open his mouth. Danny rolled his eyes.

"What's the matter, mate, cat's got your tongue? Don't you speak English?"

"Yes, I do," replied the German in perfect English, yet lined with a heavy German accent, "Sergeant Hans Von Beitz of the army of the sovereign Keiser Wilhelm II. That's all you'll be getting out of me!" That was the wrong thing to say, for, in an instant, Harry, not missing his prisoner's threatening tone, had him by his coat collar, about to throw him over the side again.

"Now listen here, _Sergeant_, have you ever seen a burial at sea?" asked Harry coldly, "Well, one more threat out of you, and I just might have one arranged for you! Except we are over _land_ and nearly two miles up! Get the point, Heinie?" If this German would be coming along as their guest, it was crucial that he first understood who was the boss on this ride.

"What the Captain is saying, Sergeant, is that as long as you behave yourself and help us fly this thing to safety, you can stay. Otherwise, it's a freefall for you!" Although the German maintained his composure, his face visibly paled at the thought of Ayden's 'freefall' and replied, "I can work it all right; I am one who put it together. However, I can't guarantee a safe landing; with this wind running, we'd all be smashed to a pulp when we touch down." He turned to Harry, "You're offering a parole, Captain?"

"That will be all, Sergeant," Harry replied sternly, maintaining his authority. But the German continued to stare at him, "Very well, now hear _my_ terms: unless I am much mistaken, this gale is blowing us due south. We might come down on your side or mine; whichever it is, nobody is anybody's prisoner when this flight is over. We each go our own ways and we don't discuss politics. Otherwise, _sir_, I just might let this gale blow you to kingdom come!" He extended his still bound hands to Harry who got the meaning; his guest was demanding that they don't treat him as a prisoner. Considering for a moment, he nodded.

"All right, cut him loose!" A hesitant Danny complied and cut through the German's binds with his bayonet.

And so, on that fateful day of March 23 1917, the journey began in earnest. Six men; two Brits, a German, an Australian, an American and a Russian, floating in their small balloon, were left blowing in the wind, heading towards an unknown destination.

**Author's note:** The journey begins! For those of you that read a lot might release that the story is partially inspired from Jules Verne's _The Mysterious Island_. Also, the characters Ayden, Slayn and Danny are named after the human characters of other LK fanfics that gave me the inspiration to write this story. Enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW! Until next time then!


	3. Chapter 3 At The Mercy of The Skies

Despite Harry's initial estimates, it was nearly 24 hours before the storm passed, during which time the balloon was blown to and fro, its six passengers clinging on for dear life, preying the balloon wouldn't tear open. Whenever they passed a gap in the clouds below, they could catch glimpses of ruined cities and forests torn up by their roots. As the winds continued carrying them along, the same thought kept going through their minds: how much longer would they remain aloft?

By the morning of the second day, the weather had finally cleared. A stiff and aching Harry was awoken by an ecstatic Danny, "Captain, look!" Looking over the edge of the basket nearly made the Brit's heart skip a beat.

"Water! We're over the sea!"

The rest of his companions were also staring over the edge, utterly dumbstruck. Slayn broke the silence, "You mean we've been blown clear across Europe? We are over the _Mediterranean_?" Behind him, Mick muttered some sort of Russian expression of amazement while Von Beitz swore in German. They had escaped from the trenches all right; but now they were trapped, floating helplessly over the endless sea.

"Look on the bright side, gentlemen," Harry said, maintaining his calm, "We needn't worry of landing in hostile territory any longer. We have completely escaped from the Front!" Slayn, Danny, Ayden and Mick all cheered, but Von Beinz frowned, "I fail to see the joy in this, _mein Herrn_; we are deserting our lines of duty!" The others looked at him scornfully. So far, the German Sergeant had hardly been a popular guest to say the least. For a group of soldiers that had only just escaped from captivity, to have a _German_ escort accompany them, regardless of him no longer retaining any authority over them, felt extremely frustrating. And while Von Beitz hadn't been a burden so far, his presence here didn't exactly sit well with them. It was only Harry's authority that kept tensions from reaching breaking point and leading to a scuffle.

"Hey, I think I see land, dead ahead!" Danny suddenly called, pointing towards, what looked like, an island about twenty miles ahead of their position. Harry's hopes instantly soared; if it were inhabited land, hopefully of some neutral country, then they would soon reach safety. Although they could see it, they were too high to spot any towns or landmarks to determine their location. According to their compass, they had been drifting south; but, for all they knew, a slight cross-mind could have shifted them in any direction without their noticing. Could it be Corsica, or Sardinia, or one of the Balearic Islands? Or had they drifted as far south as Sicily? Harry turned to Von Beinz.

"Take us down so we can get a closer look!"

Grabbing hold of the cable that controlled the vent valve on the top of the envelope, Von Beinz gave it a gentle tug; they heard the gas start to hiss out as the balloon started drifting downwards. Soon they had descended to just under a mile, allowing them to get a good view of the island; to their utmost dismay, it was nothing more than a strip of barren rock in the middle of nowhere, without the faintest sign of being inhabited. Then Harry suddenly realised they were still descending rapidly.

"Von Beinz, close that valve! There is no landing for us here." But as the German tried to carry out the order, he encountered a problem.

"It's stuck! I can't get it shut!" he shouted tugging frantically at the line. Whether it was a fragment of debris jamming the mechanism or a fault in the valve they didn't know; all they knew was that they were stuck in an uncontrollable descent, plummeting straight for the open sea below. They all grabbed and tugged furiously at the control cable but the valve remained firmly stuck.

"_Verdamt_, it's no use," said Von Beinz, "Someone has to climb up there and close it manually."

"I am going up," Harry shouted, "The rest of you dump the rest of the sandbags and anything else we can spare!" Without another word, he climbed up into the rigging, making his way up the side of the envelope. He shuddered; he had never been fond of heights and was struggling to keep his eyes focused on the envelope, afraid that if he chanced a peak down, he'd pass out and fall.

Soon, he had made it to the top; it was like sitting on a giant softball, floating a mile above the earth. A narrow vent with a small hydraulic valve, where the rope was attached to, controlled the release of the gas. Harry could see the valve was wide open, venting out the gas that kept them in the air. Grabbing hold of the valve with both hands, he begun turning it counter-clockwise with all his might, forcing it shut. This was a big mistake; suddenly, just as heard the gas flow cease, the nut bolt that held the valve knob in place popped off under the strain, and the knob came loose. Losing his gripping, Harry found himself sliding over the side of the envelope, barely managing to grad hold of the rope that had been attached to the knob, prevented him from experiencing the 'freefall' he and his companions had previously considered for Von Beinz.

Looking up, he saw it was the German that had saved his life by grabbing hold of the other end of the rope in the nick of time. With the help of the others, he pulled Harry back onboard. "Thanks Von Beinz. I am glad I decided to let you stay. I am truly grateful."

"I am afraid it is of little consequence, _Herr Kapitain_," Von Beinz replied grimly, staring at the loose valve cap still attached to the end of the rope. For an instant Harry was afraid that they were still falling; but the balloon remained level, a mile above sea level.

"You saved our lives, _Herr Kapitain_; but now, we can't get down anymore. This valve cap you just broke off was the only control we had! Now we are completely at the mercy of the winds!" None of them even bothered to rebuff the German for chastising their commanding officer, as the harsh truth sunk in. Now they were doomed to continue drifting helplessly until the balloon yielded to the forces of nature and came down on its own accord; a descend which, if it ever happened, would most likely be catastrophic.

Another day passed uneventfully; with the balloon now out of control, Harry had quickly ordered a strict rationing of their remaining food and water, to extend their lifeline for as long as possible. With their meal allowances reduced to only about a quarter of the minimum daily requirements, sourness and ill temper soon flared up. Ayden was desperately trying to take his mind off his rumbling stomach and dry throat by writing in his journal, while Von Beinz and Danny seemed resigned to their fate. Mick and Slayn, on the other hand, riddled with hunger and desperation, continued chastising Harry without end.

"So this is your perfect plan of escape, Captain? We escape the war, only to be condemned to starve or die of thirst up here? Or are we to wait for this death trap to finally give way and then we plummet to our deaths?"

"Isn't there something we could do? Maybe put a hole in the balloon?" suggested Ayden, but Von Beinz shook his head, "We'd never be able to control our descent, Herr Stone; and a hot bullet would set the hydrogen in the envelope on fire and we'd burn up instantly."

At dawn on the third day aloft, when the clouds finally parted again, they sighted land again; the coastline of a vast continent stretched out on the southern horizon. The group was overjoyed as they spotted a coastal city below, with buildings resembling Arabian mosques, as well as a European-style fortress in the centre.

"Where do you suppose we are?" asked Mick, "Is this an island or continent?"

"It might be Morocco," suggested Ayden, studying the Arabian architecture. But Harry, whose eyes had instantly darted to the flag flying on the roof of the fortress, shook his head, "Close enough, Mr Stone. Unless I am mistaking that flag, this is the city of Algiers. I also remember seeing that fortress in the last postcard my late brother sent me five years ago, before he set off into the wilderness on his expedition…"

"_Algeria_, Captain?" Danny gasped in surprise, "You mean to say we've been blown clear across the Mediterranean too? We're in _Africa_?" But their amazement of having made it so far in a tiny balloon was cut short as they remembered that they couldn't get down. They had made it to dry land, to a French colony nonetheless - a guaranteed safe haven for a band of lost Allied soldiers. But, even with safety only a mile beneath their feet, they were helpless. Seeing that the wind was slowly driving them away inland, Harry turned to Ayden.

"Give me a blank page from your journal and your pencil. Hurry!"

With a huff at having to ruin his precious journal, the American obeyed; Harry quickly scribbled a message for help, noting their date of escape from the trenches, his name and rank and those of his companions, and that they were drifting south towards the Sahara. Folding and rolling it up like a cigarette, he stuffed it into a used rifle cartridge and tossed it over the side, right above the French fortress, "If we crash-land somewhere inland, at least there is a chance they will know we are in trouble and send someone out to find us." Although obviously a slim chance, assuming that somebody on the ground would even find the note, it gave the miserable travellers a tiny ray of hope.

By the forth day aloft, all traces of civilisation had vanished; nothing could be seen beneath them but an endless landscape of sand dunes, which were the uncharted regions of the Sahara Desert. Now, instead of an open sea, the ground was an endless ocean of barren sand.

By now, the situation could only be described as desperate; all food and water was gone and still no way of getting down. And even if they could get down, out here in the heart of the desert, they would be facing certain death from hunger and thirst.

Harry sat, thirsty and hungry, feeling utterly hopeless. He and his men had been without food and water for 24 hours already and were suffering greatly. In another day or two, he figured, their remaining strength would leave them completely and that would be the end of it. Below them, the endless desert, which had turned a stunning blood-red colour from the sunset, resembled hell on earth. The balloon continued to fare well, yet remained stuck at its current altitude from the damaged valve. But it wasn't going to stay like that for much longer.

Harry was trying to make himself comfortable on the rough floor of the cramped wicker basket, when he suddenly heard a familiar hissing noise. The damaged valve had burst open again, "Damn, it's the balloon! We've got a leak!" Everyone was on their feet instantly; and for the first time on this flight, they wanted anything but to get down. Beneath them, in every direction, were hundreds of miles of inhospitable sand; no water or food source, no civilisation, and no chance of reaching safety. Simply put, the ground below was nothing more that another inescapable death trap.

"We are going down in the middle of the Sahara. We'll be stranded and doomed to die of thirst!" Danny cried, watching the ground rushing up to meet them. Another fifteen or so minutes, they figured, and they would be a pile of silk and rope wreckage scattered all over the sand; perhaps, if they were lucky, they would all die in the crash, sparing them the horrible ordeal of dying of hunger and thirst. But Harry, always true to his motto of 'fighting to live one day longer,' wasn't giving up yet.

"Drop any ballast we have left! Everything over the side, hurry!"

"The guns too?" asked Ayden, "We might need them…" Harry rounded on him, "Not if we die of thirst down there, Mr Stone! Everything onboard, gentlemen, now!" Soon, the basket was stripped; the two backpacks, the guns, and even the lamp went over the side.

"That's the lot," said Slayn, as they watched the lamp glow brightly as it hit the ground, bursting into flame. The balloon momentarily regained some of altitude but the leak persisted. Von Beinz turned to Harry, "Got any more bright ideas, _Herr Kapitain_? This will only buy us a few more minutes at most."

Just as Harry was about to reply that he was fresh out, he happened to glance at some storm clouds on the horizon; as a bolt of lightning struck beneath those clouds, revealing the outline of the darkened ground, he noticed the outlines of…

"Trees!" he shouted, "There is some kind of oasis up ahead, look!" To his greatest relief, the wind was pushing them straight in that direction. "We're saved!" That oasis, or whatever it was, or whether or not it had dangerous animals or inhabitants, had to be reached at all costs. The sight of all that vegetation meant a potential food source and the storm raging over it meant water; they two key essentials to survival.

As they drifted closer, they saw the 'oasis' was perched atop a plateau; high, wall-like cliffs stretched out for several miles, with a bed of green lush spread all over the top, like an elevated flower bed. For an instant, Harry's mind flashed back to the description of the plateau his brother had gone looking for all those years ago, which seemed to fit the description of the one before them. Could it be the same one…? The shouts of Slayn brought him back to reality.

"The devil we are saved, Captain! The balloon will never make it!"

"So what?" asked Ayden, not catching on, "We have the place within sight; we can walk the rest of the way if we have to…" But Von Beinz replied, "Not if we can't make it over those cliffs, Herr Stone." Harry realised the man was right. The cliffs of the plateau were high and completely vertical, impossible to scale on foot, with the oasis was right at the top; the base of the plateau was completely barren, like the rest of the surrounding desert. And with their current rate of descent, they would miss the plateau by a few hundred yards; in other words, they would reach the end of the road, only to be stuck at the base of this plateau, with survival just out of reach.

"Take off those heavy trench coats and hats. Empty your pockets! Whatever it takes, we have to keep this thing aloft for as long as possible! Hurry up!"

With everyone's mind firmly set on making it to that plateau at all costs, they hurryingly stripped off their empty service belts and tossed them over the side, followed by their oilskin coats, and even the compass. The balloon levelled for an instant and then continued falling. It was now almost level with the top of the cliffs and would soon miss them altogether, ruining their only chance of making it to the top of the plateau, "It's not working, Captain! What are we going to do? Throw the Kraut overboard?"

Harry scanned the balloon from top to bottom looking desperately for anything else they could dump to give them more lift. Nothing was left, absolutely nothing. And Danny's cold, sarcastic idea of throwing Von Beitz to his death, to save the rest of them, simply because he was the enemy, was out of the question. Harry desperately clutched his hair.

_Come on, Harry, you blighter, think! What else is there? The basket!_

"All right, everyone, climb onto the ring; we are letting the basket go! Everybody up!" Although obviously not too keen of dumping the very basket they were standing in, and in mid-flight nonetheless, his men, now stripped down to their shirts, instantly obeyed and climbed up onto the ring, which would serve as their new seating area for the rest of the way, using the rigging to hold on. Only Ayden, who, in contrast to the others, wasn't a soldier and thus lacked the experience, not to mention the fitness, for climbing ropes, was having trouble.

"I…I can't get up there! I can't climb!"

"You either climb or you go down with the basket, man!" Harry bellowed, as they struggled to pull the chubby reporter up by the arms, "Now get the bloody hell up there! Move it!" His words seemed to give the hesitant Ayden new strength as he fought tooth and nail, before he finally made it up onto the ring beside his companions. Not wasting a second, Harry drew his sword, which he had hung onto for this, and cut the cables keeping the basket attached to the rigging. With a jolt, the balloon, relieved of some of its excess weight, soared upwards again; they saw the basket plummet to the ground, where it burst apart.

They were very near the edge of the cliffs now; but the leak seemed to be getting bigger, rapidly deforming the deflating balloon, which continued to sink. Harry realised the only option left, "I'm going up there, to try and plug that leak. Give me your handkerchiefs!" Mick and Von Beinz, passed their handkerchiefs to Harry, who tucked them in his belt and made for the top.

Hurryingly scaling the horribly wrinkled envelope, he reached the valve, which had indeed burst open, expelling the gas inside. Using one hand to hold on, he took the first handkerchief and stuffed it into the opening, improvising a stopper. The hissing of escaping gas died away and the balloon momentarily stopped descending. Holding his breath, he looked down and saw them pass right over the top of the cliff and onto the plateau, floating only a few hundred yards above the ground. Harry only had a second to cheer, when the violent turbulence of the storm, still raging up there, hit the balloon. In an instant, they were being blown along at high speed, like a tumbleweed blown in a breeze.

Unable to make his way down anymore, Harry grabbed hold of the netting, clinging on for dear life as they flew through the storm. Heavy rain poured down, soaking him to the skin, yet refreshing his dry throat as he let it trickle into his open mouth. Unfortunately, the cold was also making his hands extremely numb, as he felt his fingers begin to lose their grip on the envelope. Another wave of turbulence struck, casing him to lose his footing. Before he could grab hold of something, he was swept off the side, plummeting towards the ground.

His own yell of terror echoed in his ears as he felt himself fall through empty rainy air, expecting to smash every bone in his body when he hit the ground… To his utmost surprise, the ground met him much sooner than he had expected; he felt himself land on some sort of vertical incline formed by some strange rock formation, invisible in the dark. Before he could get a grip, he found himself rolling downhill, painfully sweeping through thick plants and projecting rocks as he went.

Feeling his own warm blood running, his head hit a protruding stone at the foot of the incline, and he blacked out. Above him, the balloon, relieved of yet more weight and with its leak now plugged, soared upwards again, carrying his companions away, towards an unknown destination.

**Author's note: **Coming up next, introduction to the characters of the _Lion King_. For those of you that didn't get it, Harry's balloon drifted right over the top of Pride Rock when he fell, breaking his fall, and he slid down the vertical incline on the back into the trees. Enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW!


	4. Chapter 4 A Familiar Face?

King Mufasa, King of the Pride Lands, with a mighty yawn that echoed throughout the cavern, rose from his slumber. Mufasa was a majestic lion, around five years old, with a large auburn mane and a powerful built. Ever since his father had passed away from disease a couple of years ago, Mufasa had been king of his pride and the heir to his father's legacy. Alongside him was his mate Sarabi, a former childhood friend of his, who had become his mate shortly after becoming king. They had been childless for years until the Great Kings had blessed them with a son, Simba, who had been born at the beginning of the rainy season. His only other living relative was his stepbrother Taka, commonly known as Scar, whom his parents had taken in as an orphan and raised as their own.

Scar, in contrast to Mufasa, was a sleek, cunning lion, who would often get on his older stepbrother's nerves with his snide and insolent behaviour. Rather sickly in physique, Scar wasn't of much account as a hunter, warrior or even an advisor, given his cold-heartedness and jealousy towards anyone better than him, especially his brother. Friendless, with the exception of Zira, a sly and spiteful lioness, just like Scar, only more bloodthirsty and cruel, the two of them remained withdrawn from the rest of the pride. Mufasa had always been very concerned of his brother's attitude and how it would affect the pride, and wished to banish Scar if he didn't change his ways; however, he couldn't unless Scar actually committed a crime punishable by banishment, as he was bound by his family's code of honour. Mufasa was fully aware that Scar wished to be king in his place and, even when they had still been cubs, his brother would go at desperate lengths to prove himself better.

When Mufasa had still been a cub, his late father Ahadi had received a strange visitor; a wondering human, with whom he found they spoke the same language. This stranger, Richard had soon gained the trust and confidence of Ahadi, as well as the close friendship of Mufasa and, to a lesser extent, Scar. For months, Richard and his sidekick Makeede had lived with the pride, telling them amazing stories of their world which existed way beyond the boundaries of the pride's plateau, which formed the four corners of the Pride Lands, the only world Mufasa had ever known. Then, one day Richard and Makeede had both disappeared; a shocked Scar had come back from the forbidden Elephant Graveyard on the northern edge of the Pride Lands, sporting the fresh scar which gave him his nickname, claiming Richard had betrayed them in favour of the hyenas, who had offered him the riches he sought in exchange for his help in obtaining food from the Pride Lands, a forbidden activity actually conducted by Scar, who was in league with the hyenas. He had also claimed that it had been _Mufasa_ who had told Richard of that place, leading him to reckless temptation.

Although Mufasa had indeed been the one who had told Richard about the graveyard, with an emphasis that it was dangerous and off-limits, the 'realisation' of Richard's apparent betrayal had shaken the entire pride. When Richard had failed to return and explain himself, it was concluded that, realising he would no longer be welcome in the Pride Lands, he had fled. Although Ahadi had quickly come to terms with the loss and apparent betrayal of his friend, Mufasa had taken it really hard, thinking that he had led Richard to destruction. As he came into adulthood, he had grown into a very responsible and fearless leader, yet he always hoped one day Richard would return. After his son had come into the world however, Mufasa's responsibilities had grown and the memory of Richard had nearly faded from his mind.

Now, with the rainy season in full force, the pride would spend most of their time at the shelter of Pride Rock, excluding their daily hunting trips for food. Sarabi had put her own hunting on hold for the time being, as she was preoccupied with nursing her infant son, leaving her closest friend, Sarafina to lead the parties out into the savannah. Sarafina, she knew, was also pregnant and due to deliver any day now. Her mate had been a rogue lion that had been accepted into the pride but died in an accident shortly after her child was conceived, leaving Sarafina to give birth to a fatherless child with only her friends for support.

And so it was a day like any other during the rainy season, with rain pouring down in torrents for days on end, yet refreshing the drying plains of the savannah so the grass could grow again, that the lionesses of Mufasa's pride had all set off on their daily hunt, leaving Mufasa alone with Sarabi and their son.

"He truly takes after his father, doesn't he?" Sarabi asked, licking her son clean, as the cub curled up into her embrace. Mufasa smiled, lovingly nuzzling his mate, "No honeytree, he takes after _you_." At that moment, Zazu, Mufasa's major-domo and personal advisor, a stern-faced hornbill whose family had been employed by the royal family for generations, flew into the cave, looking excited. A dignified, no-nonsense-type fellow, Zazu also acted as the king's messenger and lookout, and would be the first to deliver any alert of trouble in the Pride Lands that demanded the king's attention, just like now, "Sire, the hunting party have found something strange. You better come at once!"

Giving his mate another nuzzle, Mufasa hurried out of the cave, following the swift-flying Zazu, to see what the problem was all about. To his surprise, his major-domo didn't lead him out into the plains as he had expected; instead, he led him to the back of Pride Rock, at the base of the incline that led up to the top of the majestic rock which served as home to the pride. As he approached, he noticed a group of lionesses from the hunting party, standing gathered around something lying on the ground. Making his way through the crowd, Mufasa saw what the fuss was all about.

Lying face down on the ground was the mud-caked body of a man; although definitely still alive, the stranger was unconscious and horribly battered, bloodied and bore signs of having suffered extreme hardships. Yet, the familiar face and scent instantly jolted Mufasa's memory as he recognised someone he thought to have lost years ago, "By the Great Kings, it's Richard!" Some of the elder lionesses, which had also known Richard as cubs, started muttering nervously to each other. The exception was one sinister lioness with narrowed red eyes and a sleek face filled with cunning and wickedness, "So, the traitor has finally returned? Just in time I say, to face punishment!"

"That's enough Zira!" barked Mufasa, quieting down the lioness, who continued to glare at the unconscious human, as well as at Mufasa, with disapproval, "If you recall, _Your Majesty_," she spat, "this human is a deserter and a traitor, and your father King Ahadi declared him a convicted exile! Scar saw him smuggling food to the hyenas, to satisfy his own traitorous ambitions! Exiles trespassing in the Pride Lands, let alone Pride Rock, are punished by death. This human has to be killed at once!"

"That, Zira, is _my_ decision to make," interrupted Mufasa sternly. Although he knew Zira quite well, he firmly disapproved of her evil nature, as much as he disapproved of his brother's insolence, yet he didn't chastise her like he did his brother, out of personal respect for her being a lioness, "And until such time, it is my command that he is not to be harmed in any way, and to be given all the help he needs to recover. He can explain himself later."

"Who can explain himself about what, big brother?" asked a sleek, oily voice from behind. Mufasa turned to stare at the all-too-familiar sneering face of his stepbrother, "Scar, how nice of you to grace us with your presence. As I was saying, before you interrupted, it seems our old friend Richard has returned…" At this, Scar's bored face suddenly turned hard, as if he had just been told some very disappointing news, "The traitorous human has returned? The nerve of those pathetic creatures…" But Mufasa's angry growl cut him off.

"Innocent until _proven_ guilty, Scar. And Richard is _not_ a pathetic creature…" At this Scar snorted as he turned to leave, causing Mufasa to lose his temper, as he rounded on Scar, "You find this _amusing_? And don't you turn your back on me Scar!" But Scar only looked over his shoulder at Mufasa, muttering coldly, "Maybe you shouldn't turn your back on me…" The reply was a roaring Mufasa who instantly stepped in front of his brother, "Is that a challenge? And don't you dare give me a cold shoulder again before I've dismissed you!"

Seeing his big stepbrother's temper on edge, Scar spoke in a more submissive tone, "Temper, temper…I wouldn't dream of challenging you. I was simply under the impression that I wasn't wanted here at this moment…"

"Currently, you are not," replied Mufasa coldly, "So you can have a good long think about amending your manners!" he growled, still furious about that display of defiance in front of the other lionesses. Scar walked away, accompanied by Zira, who had rushed to comfort him. Taking a moment to calm his nerves, he turned back to the rest of the lionesses, awaiting further orders, "Sarafina, help me get him back to Pride Rock. Zazu, go and summon Rafiki, to treat his wounds." The mandrill obeyed without argument, as Mufasa and Sarafina hoisted the unconscious Harry onto their shoulders and made for the ramp at the base of Pride Rock.

Sarabi gasped in surprise as her mate and the hunting party entered the main cave, bringing the battered and mud-caked body of Harry with them. Laying the unconscious man on the floor at the far end, the lionesses retreated, to go retrieve their kill, which they had forgotten in the confusion. Only Sarafina remained with the royal family, to explain what had happened.

"We were coming back from the hunt on the northern border and we spotted some of those foul vultures circling over something on the ground at the base of Pride Rock. At first we thought it was some poor creature that had died, but then remembered no animal would ever come to die on our threshold. Then we feared maybe one of us might have been hurt and rushed to help. After we had driven those scavengers away, we saw it was actually a human."

"And nobody touched him or attacked him in any way?" asked Mufasa, staring at all the cuts and bruises Harry had suffered from his fall from the balloon, when he had cartwheeled down the side of Pride Rock. Sarafina shook her head, "No, this was just as we found him. The strange thing is, there were no tracks or scent leading away from Pride Rock, from wherever it was he came from. It was almost as if he dropped out of the sky…"

"Well, it will be his place to explain that mystery after he awakes, among other questions," Mufasa said grimly. Although he knew that if 'Richard' was proven guilty of treason and consorting with the enemy as it had been assumed following his disappearance, he would have no choice but to follow his late father's law and officially exile him. However, Mufasa, having been close to him as a cub as well as the fact that the only witness to accuse the man of treason had been Scar, a well-known chronic liar whenever it suited his best interests, Mufasa was determined to get to the bottom of this. Hopefully, their deduction of a betrayal would prove to be nothing more than a hasty mistake.

As it turned out, the man remained unconscious for a whole day, uttering occasional grunts and moans, indicating he was still alive and struggling to regain consciousness. Sarabi had been quite uncomfortable of having a strange human in the den, so close to her cub nonetheless, even though he was unconscious and currently unable to inflict any harm. Most of the other lionesses had been more curious than afraid. The only exception was Zira, who kept arguing of the foolishness of bringing an alien creature into the den and that the human stood no chance of recovery anyway, and would be better off put out of its misery. Zazu, although fiercely loyal to his master, had also expressed his disapproval, pointing out that they had no idea of where the human had come from or what he wanted. When he had cracked a sarcastic joke that their guest was unlikely to turn out more ill-mannered than Scar, Mufasa had given him a reproachful, yet amused scolding, still sore about the display his brother had put up today.

It was only after Mufasa had reminded Sarabi, who had very few memories of Richard, as she had been very young when he had been here, that the man had been a close friend of his and that he still believed in his trustworthiness, that she pulled herself together, putting her faith in her mate's judgement. Zira, on the other hand, had only decided to hold her silence after receiving a sound scolding for questioning her king with such disrespect.

Rafiki, a wise, old, semi-cynical mandrill had arrived and treated the human's injuries with some of his gourds, while the lioness licked the many cuts and bruises clean (as far as they could anyway, as neither of them had any idea of how to remove Harry's uniform). Fortunately, there were no broken bones or any life-threatening injures and after giving the unconscious man some water, Rafiki departed, leaving the royal family to wait patiently for 'Richard' to awake.

Author's notes: For those of you that are confused, the lions keep referring to Harry as 'Richard', is because they are confusing him with his dead twin brother, whom Mufasa knew as a cub. I am not sure but I think a twin also carries an identical scent, which could confuse even a lion. Coming up next, Harry is introduced to the pride and hears the first news about his missing brother... Enjoy and please review!


	5. Chapter 5 Hospitality of the Pride

Harry weakly opened his eyes, confused. His throat felt dry and his whole body in general felt like someone had beaten him within an inch of his life with a baseball bat. He could feel cuts and bruises all over his body and the sticky stains under his clothes testified to a rather significant blood loss from his injuries, but luckily no broken bones or anything else serious. Slowly, the blank spots in his memory cleared and it all came back to him; escaping from the Front, the flight in the balloon, being stranded up in the air without supplies, their desperate struggle to lighten the balloon, his attempt to plug the leak, only to fall…

He sat bolt upright as the memory of his fall from the balloon sprang back to his mind; the last thing he remembered was falling, expecting a long, painful, deadly plummet to the ground, only to encounter some sort of incline in the dark, sending him on a seemingly endless and painful slide downhill, until he had passed out… Where was he now? Still lying on the bottom of some hill where he had fallen? And where were his men?

As he felt enough strength return to sit upright, to view his surroundings properly, he realised he was no longer in the open air. Instead, he was inside some sort of rock cave with no recollection of how he had gotten there. Could he have dragged himself there in a semiconscious state and passed out? But no, the last thing he remembered was being knocked out by hitting his head against a tree or rock, when he had cartwheeled down the slope. Maybe he had been found by some natives? But, then again, what sort of natives inhabited an isolated, unscalable plateau in the middle of the Sahara…?

As he looked around, his eyes finally adjusting to the twilight, his heart nearly jumped into his lungs in fright; lying asleep all around him were a crowd of lionesses. He was in the layer of a pride of lions! Without bothering to think of how he could have ended up there in the first place and still be alive, his hand reached for his gun holster at his side; but then he remembered, he had thrown away all his equipment when trying to lighten the balloon, including his pistol. Feeling his heart pounding so hard, he could hear it thumping under his chest, he held his breath and slowly rose to his feet, praying none of the lions would stir and see him before he could make it to the exit.

Suddenly, he heard a faint meowing from beside him and saw a cub had walked up to him while he had been unconscious. It was very young, only several weeks old at best and in Harry's eyes, most adorable. But this wasn't the time for sentiments, for he knew, being caught close to a lion's young was a perfect way to commit suicide. "All right little fella," he thought, "you just keep quiet and go back to sleep, so I can walk out of here in one piece…" But, in his anxiety, he didn't notice the trailing sheath of his sword hanging at his side; suddenly, he heard an irritated moan as he accidentally poked a nearby lioness in the ribs, waking her up. His blood run cold as he saw the ferocious creature turn to glare at him with her evil, red eyes, uttering an angry growl.

That was all that was needed, before the rest of the pride, alerted by the growl, begun to stir. All eyes instantly turned to stare at him. Harry gritted his teeth, expecting them to instantly charge at him and rip him to pieces where he stood. Although he still had his sword, what good would it do against a dozen or so lionesses, when the likelihood of surviving a single lion attack without a gun was unlikely, to say the least?

To his surprise however, none of the lionesses showed any signs of aggression (excluding the lioness he had just poked, who drew away sulking), as they parted, revealing a massive male lion, apparently the leader of the pride, making his way towards him. On a raised stone platform at the back of the cave, Harry saw another powerful-looking lioness, apparently cub's mother, retrieve her son who had run back to her in the confusion. The massive lion came to stand before him, fixing him with an unbending gaze. But instead of lunging at him however, Harry's heart almost jumped into his lungs again when, to his utmost amazement, the lion spoke in clear _English_, "Welcome back, Richard."

Shock hit Harry like a battering ram, "No, it can't be! I must be hallucinating!" he thought, feeling his head for any blows that may be making him hear things but there wasn't anything other than a few mild scratches and bruises. Then, a wave of dizziness for overtaxing himself overcame him and he felt his knees about to give way. The lion meanwhile, seeing his guest stagger, quickly rushed to his side before Harry could hit the floor, "Easy Richard; you're badly hurt. Rafiki said you must take it easy for a few days…"

"Y…you can talk?" muttered Harry, finally finding his voice, "And why are you calling me Richard? Where am I?" At this the lion looked confused, "What do you mean, why am I calling you Richard? Don't you remember me? I am Mufasa, Ahadi's son. You knew me as a cub! What, have I changed so much?" Despite his utter confusion as to how this lion could talk and still unsure if he intended to kill him or not, Harry suddenly realised whom his host was referring to, "Do you mean my twin brother Richard? There was a strong resemblance. Did you know him?" It made perfect sense, as he recalled that his brother had come exploring these parts all those years ago. But to find that his brother had been befriended by a pride of _talking lions_, which were currently mistaking him for their old friend, was beyond belief.

"Your twin brother? So you're _not_ Richard?" asked Mufasa, also beginning to understand his mistake. Harry, hoping that being a stranger wouldn't put him into his host's bad books, explained, "I am Captain Harry Van Owen of the British Army; like I said, Richard is my twin brother…or was. So, I presume you knew him?"

"I am Mufasa, king of the Pride Lands. That's my queen Sarabi and our son Simba," the mighty lion said, ignoring Alan's question, his previously excited tone now having turned stern and formal, "And this is our pride," he said, introducing each of the lionesses in turn: Sarafina, a close friend and confident of Sarabi's, Zira, a sinister-looking lioness, which was staring at Harry as if he were a scum of the earth, as well as ten other huntresses; Zainabu, Rehema, Chakavu, Mbalamwezi, Ndugu, Purupuru, Maridadi, Chauski, Deiriai and Jaha all introduced themselves. Zira only scowled and looked away, obviously not interested in acquainting himself with the human before her. After introductions were made, Mufasa then turned his attention back to Harry, "What were you doing at the base of Pride Rock? In fact, how did you get into the Pride Lands in the first place? We couldn't find your trail anywhere; you seemed to have dropped out of the sky…"

Well, actually your Majesty," Harry replied, trying to sound as respectful as possible, despite feeling like an idiot by talking to a lion like he would to the King of England, "That is exactly what happened to me. I am not an intruder; I just sort…stumbled across here by accident. The circumstances might be a little complicated to explain…"

"Well, I currently have no pressing duties to attend to. Fire away!" Mufasa said. Harry rolled his eyes, "This fellow is a leader at heart; questions strangers like a judge at a quarter session!" he thought, as he launched into his story of being taken prisoner of war on the Front, his escape with the fellow prisoners, their flight in the balloon, drifting aimlessly for days until the balloon had finally given way…

"I tried to plug that leak to save us and fell from the balloon. For an instant, I thought I was doomed until I felt myself sliding down the side of some hill rather than _falling_. Then I blacked out and that's the last I remember before waking up here."

You must have landed on the top of Pride Rock," Mufasa concluded, "For the past two days, we have been trying to pinpoint your trail but found it only leads up there. And you say, there were others with you?"

"Yes, five others. Haven't you seen them? Aren't they here too?" Harry asked, remembering his companions had still been aboard the balloon after he had fallen. If these strange lions hadn't found them, then did it mean they had been blown away and probably killed? Sure enough, Mufasa replied, "I am sorry, we haven't seen anyone else, or that…flying contraption of yours. But never fear; now that we know, we'll be sure to send search parties out to look for them. If they are anywhere in the Pride Lands, we'll find them. In the meantime…" he went on, causing Harry to recoil slightly; had this lion finished interrogating him only to turn against him? Was he going to have him killed as an intruder?

"…you're welcome to stay with us until you're better. You're still very ill and weak." Harry felt himself relax somewhat, realising the lions were indeed not hostile, but very friendly. Although still at a loss of how they could talk, he felt grateful for their hospitality; indeed, being a former doctor, he knew he wouldn't get very far in his current condition, if he were asked to leave right now; not that there was anywhere to go when stranded on a plateau deep in the unexplored regions of the Sahara, without supplies and equipment.

"Thank you your Majesty," replied Harry, bowing his head in gratitude, "I appreciate your help very much."

"Your brother was a good friend of mine; I have every intention of honouring his friendship," Mufasa replied curtly, a smile crossing his stern face. Seeing Harry's questionable look, he added, "The story of how I knew your brother will have to wait for now. You must rest and regain your strength before we discuss anything more. Now, rest."

True, by now Harry was feeling about to pass out from exhaustion. After gulping down some water from a gourd Mufasa's shaman had left for him and taking off his jacket to use as a pillow, he made himself comfortable on the cave floor and sank back into a deep sleep. Satisfied that their guest was comfortable and resting peacefully, the lions soon settled down to sleep as well.

Mufasa kept staring at the sleeping Harry for a long time; although he had been a bit saddened to realise that this wasn't Richard, he couldn't help but feel that this unexpected arrival of his old friend's brother might just be the key to making peace with the mystery that had haunted him since the day Richard had vanished and 'revealed' to be a traitor.

Meanwhile, Zira, having slipped away during the conversation, met Scar in their cave at the foot of Pride Rock. Although nowhere as good as the main cave, Scar and Zira preferred their privacy and Mufasa had seen it fit to grant their request, mostly to keep Scar out of his mane. Giving each other a loving nuzzle, the couple settled down to discuss their problem.

"Well, what did you find out?" Scar asked, his voice quivering slightly; if the stranger was indeed Richard, whom he was sure he had seen die years ago, then did this mean Mufasa now knew of his scheme and was coming to demand explanations?

"Nothing to fear of, my love," Zira reassured him with a sickening smile which only Scar loved, "That human is only the twin brother of our old friend Richard; as far as I can tell, he knows nothing…not yet anyway."

"His brother? And what is he doing here?" asked Scar in surprise, suspicious of the arrival of his former victim's _sibling_. Perhaps the newcomer had somehow found out and had come to expose him?

"He claims to have escaped from some war back in his homeland and gotten separated from his companions. Mufasa has already given the order that this stranger be treated with hospitality and respect until he recovers from his injuries. Oh, the shame of it, ordering dignified lions to be caregivers to a weakling human who has no business being here in the first place! Oh, if I were queen, that human would be killed on sight for trespassing here without welcome!"

"I much as I share your sentiments, my dear Zira," Scar replied smoothly, in his usual sly voice, "We must pull ourselves together; that human may know nothing, but it is only a matter of time before he starts asking questions about his brother. And then our problems will only be increased exponentially. Actually, I think I know just how we can use his inevitable curiosity to rid ourselves of this unforeseen…complication. For now, we just stay vigilant and wait for him to ask his questions, so we can give him his…answers."

All his life Scar had been an opportunist and a strategist; in contrast to his stepbrother, who valued courage and strength, Scar valued cunning and intelligence; while Zira would often attempt to get her way with rash brutality, Scar found it worked better using sly, dirty work, which didn't involve direct confrontation with a stronger opponent. Richard hadn't suspected him in the least until it was too late; hopefully, his newly arrived brother wouldn't be so difficult to manipulate the same way. Maybe, if he planned his strategy properly, he might even be able to kill two birds with one stone…

Author's note: Sorry about the delay, but I was busy! Coming up next, Harry starts exploring his new home and gets to know his new friends better. His men from the balloon will be reappearing later on. Enjoy and please review!


	6. Chapter 6 The Plateau and A Mystery

When Harry opened his eyes again, it was broad daylight. He still felt thirsty and dirty, not to mention starving, but at least his injuries had healed somewhat. Looking around him, he saw he was still inside the cave, which was now strangely deserted; the events of last night resurfaced in his mind and he began to wonder, maybe those talking lions had all been just a wild dream?

Slowly getting to his feet, he picked up his sword, which lay against the wall nearby, and headed outside. As he stepped out of the cave into the sunlight, a beautiful sight met his eyes. The cave was cut into the side of a majestic, obelisk-like rock formation. A section of this massive rock, which seemed to have collapsed after centuries of erosion, formed a long platform pointing out towards the eastern horizon. This side of the rock was a vertical wall, leading all the way up to the narrow summit. The other side, in direct contrast, was an incline that gradually levelled out at the foot of the rock. A thick patch of trees covered the back of Pride Rock, almost like a garden for the 'royal' residence.

The surrounding landscape, in contrast to the endless, barren sand dunes of the Sahara, which he had observed from the balloon, was a vast savannah, mostly grasslands with patches of scattered trees and waterholes visible here and there. A deep gorge was visible a few miles away on the southern horizon, followed by more desert. To the north, Harry could just make out the edge of the plateau, with the vast Sahara Desert beyond. To the west, he could vaguely make out the edge of some sort of barren geyser crevice. There was no trace of human civilisation anywhere, but the many herds roaming the savannah was a sight of reassurance to Harry, realising that at least he wasn't in danger of starving or dying of thirst out here.

Finding nobody about, he made his way down a rock fall that formed a ramp down the side of Pride Rock, heading for a nearby waterhole for a drink and a wash. As he walked, he proceeded to take inventory of everything he had; it didn't take him long to realise that, aside from his pocket watch, a handkerchief and his sword, which he had kept by accident, he had nothing but the clothes he was wearing. He had no weapons, no ammunition, no navigation instruments and no equipment of any kind. Even his wallet, which had contained several francs that he could have used in the French colonies, was gone. His men, he realised, wherever they had landed, couldn't be any better off, after he had ordered them to throw away everything, to lighten the balloon.

He was in quite a fix and he knew it; he would have to figure out how to provide for himself, with virtually nothing to help him in his endeavours. And then was the question of finding his missing companions and figuring a way back to civilisation…if there was a way back at all.

Making his way down to the water's edge, he soon squashed his thirst. The water was warm and rather muddy, yet drinkable. Although he was concerned of the possibility of the water being contaminated with meningitis or some other germs, against which he had no immunity, never having visited Africa before, for the moment he cared of nothing else other than to refresh his horribly dehydrated body. Next, he turned his attention to his hygiene; being a former doctor, he valued hygiene a great deal and currently felt his sanitation was nothing short of a disgrace. With his mud-caked, bloodstained uniform, which he had been wearing for months in the trenches, as well as not having had a decent bath for nearly a year, a bath, even without soap, would be most welcome.

Taking off his jacket, waistcoat and boots, he dove into the water, enjoying the sensation of the water rinsing away all the mud and dry blood from his clothes. His old wounds began to sting and bleed painfully as the water cleaned them out, yet making him feel a lot better. After a while of quiet swimming, something he had really missed during the three years on the Front, he made his way back to shore and settled down to dry. He was soaking wet and had nothing to use as a towel other than his jacket, but with the heat of the African sun, it hardly mattered; his clothes, although still frayed, now had a much cleaner appearance, making him more presentable. But when he tried to shave, using his sword blade as a razor and some mud for cream, he found it to be painful and ineffective, finally deciding he was better off letting nature take its course.

As he sat there, trying to improvise a toothbrush from a twig, he heard a rustling in the foliage behind him. Being accustomed to the unpredictable environment of the war, where danger could appear at any unexpected second, in an instant he had drawn his sword, anticipating an attack, "Who goes there? Show yourself!"

"Take it easy Harry, it's just me," Mufasa replied, emerging from the undergrowth. For an instant the doctor-turned-soldier was stunned, realising that he had not been hallucinating last night after all; this place was indeed inhabited by talking lions! Now that he was no longer in a semi-conscious state of injury, the realisation was utterly shell-shocking, "You…you can actually talk?"

"My late father had a fine time trying to reassure your brother that he wasn't going crazy when he first came to the Pride Lands. Every human visitor we've ever had always tended to show particular interest in how we can talk; and just like my forefathers have told them, I am telling you now: we have always been able to talk like you. Myself, my father, my grandfather and all our forefathers before us, all the way back to the beginning of time."

"So, this isn't some sort of…trait you have acquired somehow from somewhere?" Harry asked, the shock of his surprise receding and his curiosity building. Crazy as the situation was, and despite his own problems, it definitely was intriguing. As if reading his mind, Mufasa explained, "Originally we spoke a language our past visitors have referred to as the Zulu tongue, which they say is also spoken by local black humans living on the far side of the desert, outside our borders. The first white man to come to the Pride Lands was several generations ago, during the reign of my great forefather, King Mohatu. Throughout the reigns of all the great kings of the past, my ancestors have adopted languages or ideas from human visitors, to improve the leadership of our kingdom. Our first white visitor – a certain Joshua Cody, if I recall correctly - taught our ancestors English, as well as recommended the formation of classes and leadership positions, which greatly improved the running of our kingdom."

"And I presume my brother was your last visitor before me?" Harry asked, slowly piecing everything together in his mind. As far as he could tell, these lions were probably some sort of parallel evolutionary branch to ordinary lions, whose origins probably not even Charles Darwin would have been able to explain at this point, with genetically acquired abilities of human speech and intelligence. This evolution was apparently restricted to the population of this isolated plateau, which had gone unnoticed and undisturbed by the outside world for countless of centuries. With the occasional intervention of visiting humans, which had 'tapped' into this unusual trait and developed it, these strange lions had also acquired spoken language. But the fate of his missing brother still remained a mystery as he continued listening to Mufasa's story.

"I was still a cub, hardly older than my son, when I first met Richard. Like you, he stumbled across the Pride Lands by accident and soon earned the trust and friendship of my father; he was like an older brother to me and I had soon grown real close to him…"

"Then, he's still living here? Because he never returned home from his expedition…" Harry said, impatient for Mufasa to get to the point; five years of wondering what had become of his brother had been enough. It was time he learned once and for all, whether Richard was alive or dead. Although frowning slightly at Harry's impatience, Mufasa didn't chastise him and patiently explained.

"After living with us for some time, he suddenly disappeared one night with his companion. We never saw them again and figured he had left to return home as he had said he would someday," the lion king explained, "When I first saw you, I was so sure you were him having returned to us."

"Only, you mistook me for Richard, your Majesty," Harry said, not forgetting his manners, "Like I said last night, the two of us shared quite a resemblance from being twins. Oh, how I always wished he'd come back someday…"

"And you said, he never returned home?" Mufasa asked. Harry shook his head, "No, my solicitors declared him dead years ago. Then my career as a doctor came to a bad end when I accidentally let one of my child patients die. I have been a soldier ever since, until fate apparently brought me here to retrace my brother's footsteps."

"Fate, indeed," Mufasa said grimly, "Likewise, I had always hoped he'd return to us someday…"

"So, you have no idea what happened to him?" Harry asked, feeling like he'd just reached a dead end. From the moment he had heard his host mention his brother's name, he had been filled with hope of finally seeing his brother again; a hope that was now being crushed with Mufasa's words. Sure enough, the majestic lion shook his head sadly, "I am very sorry Harry; I wish I could help you but I am as much in the dark as to his fate as you are." Although Mufasa was edging to tell his guest everything Scar had told them that night he had come back, sporting his newly-acquired scar which gave him his nickname, he felt he would be negating his old trust in Richard, not to mention offend Harry, who apparently had suffered from the loss of his brother as much as he had.

At that moment, they were interrupted by a hornbill that came and perched itself on Mufasa's shoulder. Harry half-expected the king to angrily swat it away, when the bird, apparently familiar to Mufasa, spoke, "Sorry to disturb you sire; I have come to report the search party for your guest's missing companions are returning. The hunting party should also be back shortly with the kill."

"Thank you Zazu. I will be along shortly. Harry, this is Zazu, my major-domo. Should you ever require any assistance or advice in my absence, you may turn to him at any time. Every member of the pride is also under orders to assist you in anything you need."

"Thank you, your Majesty," Harry said, "I'll do my best not to be a burden to you all…"

"I should certainly hope so," piped in the hornbill incredulously, "His Majesty has far more important duties than to entertain uninvited relatives of past guests…" Harry was under the impression that the hornbill disapproved of his arrival but was spared from retorting as Mufasa cleared his throat.

"That will be all Zazu!" the lion interrupted sternly, giving his major-domo a stern look of disapproval for his lack of manners, "Fly ahead and gather everyone together for an announcement." Zazu bowed his head respectfully and took flight, heading back to Pride Rock to carry out his master's order. Mufasa turned back to Harry.

"I do apologise for that outburst; some of us have never encountered humans before and may take some time to adjust to your presence. But come; it is standard protocol for all newcomers to be formally introduced to the pride." At this, combined with Mufasa mentioning that some members of the pride were already on edge with his being into their midst, Harry felt very uneasy. Maybe they would be calling it to vote, whether or not they might be better off without him? What would happen then? The memory of that angry lioness he had accidentally poked last night, with those sinister glaring red eyes, was still fresh on his mind. However, Mufasa, almost as if sensing his uneasiness, reassured him with a nudge in the side.

"Brace up Harry; nobody will dare touch you. I don't believe you're a threat to us and unless I say otherwise, anyone who tries to harm you in any way will be committing treason and will have to answer for it. Oh, there they come now…" he said, as Harry saw the entire pride gather together at the foot of Pride Rock for his 'introduction'. The majority of Mufasa's pride were lionesses, the exception being Zazu and a scrawny-looking male lion with a black mane and cunning green eyes, who stood beside the same evil-eyed lioness Harry had encountered last night.

Forming a neat circle, but leaving a couple of empty places for Harry and Mufasa, the lionesses all stared, some with interest and some with shock, as their king presented the newcomer.

"Pride sisters, my faithful subjects and friends, as per our ancestral law of helping those in need, it is my decision that we offer shelter, food and protection to this newcomer…"

"_What?_" snarled Zira, "That human is the brother of an exiled traitor! Whatever lies he'd fed you Mufasa, he means nothing but trouble! I don't care if you're king or not; that human has to go if not killed outright…!" Her furious ranting was cut short by an angry roar from Sarabi, "Silence Zira! Mufasa is your king and master and you will respect his authority!"

"Thank you Sarabi," Mufasa said smiling at his mate, before turning to the furious Zira with a stern face, "The safety of the kingdom is my responsibility, Zira, and currently, there is nothing that convinces me that Harry here means any trouble. As most of you already know, Harry is the twin brother of our old missing friend Richard…"

"Our _so-called friend_, if you recall brother," the scrawny, black-mane lion sneered, staring at Harry with dislike, "Have you forgotten how he broke our poor father's heart with his betrayal? Are you daft or do you enjoy being a disgrace to our…" But whatever Scar was going to say they never found out, for Mufasa, outraged at being spoken to with such disrespect, roared back at his step-brother, "SILENCE SCAR!" he bellowed, "I have not forgotten the suspicious circumstances surrounding Richard's disappearance, but, like I have told you countless of times before, I believe them to be untrue. And that's why I am willing to give Harry a chance before passing any kind of judgement."

The pride's reactions to Mufasa's decision were mixed; most of the lioness seemed to agree half-heartedly, while Scar and Zira maintained expressions of utmost disapproval and outrage, yet maintained their silence. As soon as the pride was dismissed, all the lions returned to their duties, leaving Mufasa and Sarabi alone with Harry. As soon as he was sure they had privacy, Harry turned to Mufasa; after having heard everything that lion Scar had just said, he knew there was something more behind his brother's story.

"Mufasa," he said, keeping his voice calm, yet firm, "With all due respect, I believe you have been withholding something from me. And as it concerns my brother, I believe you owe me an explanation." Mufasa seemed to agree his guest had a point, as he nodded, "I do apologize Harry; you have every right to know. Although I was hoping the time for explanations wouldn't have to come so soon, least of all in such a hateful manner that my step-brother just displayed, I believe the time has come to give you the _whole_ story. Now, I only ask you to be patient and hear me out before asking any further questions."

After Harry, despite starting to have doubts about his host, had promised, Mufasa and Sarabi starting telling him the story of how Richard had come to them as well as the circumstances surrounding his disappearance and apparent departure. Harry sat, feeling himself start to sweat, wondering, what had Mufasa been trying to keep from him?

Author's notes: Coming up next, Harry learns the last part of Richard's story and sets out to discover the unknown truth, while trying to adjust to his new life and find his men. Enjoy and please review!


	7. Chapter 7 A New Home

Harry sat in silent thinking, feeling at a total loss; after having heard Mufasa explain that after Richard had disappeared, rumours had surfaced of him having been a traitor who had fled to escape punishment, he didn't know what to make of it. Although touched to learn that Mufasa had refused to believe those 'rumours' all along, the news that his brother might have been involved in some traitorous affair, presumably for his own gain, was highly disturbing. Even more so was the realisation that he was back to square one; even Mufasa's pride, who had last seen Richard alive, didn't know what had happened to him or whether he was dead or alive.

All his life, Harry had known Richard to be highly ambitious, with a great thirst for knowledge or anything that would promote his scientific career. He also knew him to sometimes be prone to taking unnecessary and often reckless risks to achieve his goals if necessary. However, he also knew his brother to value his friendship with others and would never betray someone he had grown so close to in favour of a personal pursuit. According to Mufasa, Richard had simply taken off one night and never returned, leaving his fate open to speculations. Trying to maintain his calm, he turned to his host, who seemed to be waiting for his own explanation.

"With all due respect Mufasa, but you didn't know my brother like I did; he was ambitious and sometimes reckless, but he was never disloyal. He would never double-cross anyone he regarded a friend to suit his own interests. No, whatever happened to Richard can't be related to _betrayal_. I only wish I knew _where_ he was now; even if I could find his body to bury him, would provide some sense of closure…" Suddenly, inspired by his own words, Harry realised something very important; if Richard had never left the plateau, given that nobody had actually seen him go, then could this mean, maybe he was still here somewhere? Perhaps he was marooned or stranded? Maybe he was still alive? Although his assumption sounded highly optimistic given that he hadn't showed up after all this time, Harry didn't want to give up hope just yet. As if reading his mind, Mufasa said, "My Pride and I will help you in every way we can to find your brother. In the meantime, I insist you stay with us until you're better and we've found your missing men. So, will you accept my offer?"

Harry considered for a moment; he knew that Mufasa probably felt he had offended him by telling him what had happened with Richard…as much as they knew, or rather _assumed_ anyway. In true, although rather shocked at the explanation, Harry felt Mufasa was on his side, at least regarding Richard, and he could trust him. Finally, realising he had little choice anyway he looked at it, he nodded, "Very well Mufasa, I'll stay. And I thank you for your hospitality."

"The pleasure is all mine," Mufasa replied curtly, a warm smile forming across his face, "Come, the kill will soon attract flies and I am starving." It was only then when Harry realised his own hunger; after not having consumed a single calorie in over 72 hours, he felt close to collapse. The thought of fresh, juicy meat, a meal he hadn't enjoyed since before the war, made his lips water. Then he realised a serious problem; as a human, he couldn't consume meat raw like his lion hosts could, least of all that of wildlife game, which could give him serious, if not lethal, food poisoning. And unfortunately, he had no cooking utensils, or even any means of building a fire. Going through his pockets, he realised he had lost his matchbox, which had thrown from the balloon along with his pipe and tobacco.

Studying his surroundings, he saw nothing useful in making a fire; although there was plenty of wood and dry grass, there was nothing to produce a flame or even a spark. The surrounding rocks were solid but unsuitable to improvise flints by striking his sword against them. Then, his eyes lit up as he took out his watch and studied it. Most pocket watches were a customary design with a single glass face cover and other metal one to cover the works behind. Harry's however was a slightly unusual make, which used glass coverings back and front. With some basic knowledge of physics and a bit of luck, he would soon have an improvised lighter at hand…

As Mufasa led him back to Pride Rock, Harry paused to pick up an armful of dry wood and twigs. Catching Mufasa's confused look, he explained, "Cooking wood. I'll need a fire to cook my share…" As he had feared, Mufasa frowned, "Fire? Fire is dangerous, a threat to life! Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Harry smiled, "Trust me; it's perfectly safe as long as we don't leave the fire unattended. However, you may want to issue a word of warning to the other lionesses though. We don't need a panic." Ascending the stone ramp up to Pride Rock, they saw the lionesses had returned from the hunt with a large buffalo; a feast, big enough to feed the entire pride, lay before them.

Setting down the pile of wood on the rocky ground, away from the cave entrance, Harry took out his watch. Carefully unscrewing both of the curved glass covers from their frames and crossing them together, he improvised a lens. This in turn was placed in the path of the sunlight, concentrating the sun's rays on a twig. Meanwhile, the entire pride, having heard Mufasa's explanation of what their guest was doing, had diverted their attention to Harry's endeavour. Zira, who had approached for a closer look, or perhaps to sneer at the man's efforts, jumped back in surprise as the twig in Harry's hand suddenly burst into flame like a match. The man placed it under the pile of wood and soon had a roaring fire going.

Turning back to the pride, he saw the lionesses all staring at him, some in amazement at his accomplishment and others with owe. Their natural fear of fire, one built so close to their home nonetheless, had them all on edge. In Zira's case however, she seemed more bad-tempered than afraid, probably disgusted that Harry was getting so much attention. After a while, everything quietened down again and the lionesses returned to their duties.

As per the lions' etiquette, which Harry had learned from Richard, the male lions of the pride, including Mufasa and Scar, would be the first to eat while the lionesses waited their turn. Harry was about to join the group and wait his turn when, to his utmost amazement, Mufasa called him over to join him and his brother at the 'lunch table'. Drawing his sword, Harry peeled over the furry skin from the hip of the buffalo and cut himself a large chunk of meat from the bicep. Then, running the blade through the meat like a spit, he turned and held it over his fire, gently turning it over at slow intervals. A short while later, a nice, juicy steak was ready for serving.

Rejoining his hosts, Harry took his first bite out of his first hot meal in months, a great relief from the tinned corned beef and hardtack rations from the trenches. Although lacking salt or spices, the meat was good and filled with all the protein and carbohydrates needed to revive Harry's starving body. Since he had no dish or cutlery, he resolved to forget his normal table etiquette and eat with his hands, making a mental note to try and improvise some proper eating utensils later. By the time the lionesses had also had their turn, there was nothing left of the buffalo but a pile of gnarled bare bones.

That night, Harry, feeling well-fed, clean, and in better health, lay down to sleep on the den floor, using his folded-up jacket as a pillow, the lionesses all snuggled up around him. As he lay staring at the night sky through the cave entrance, he kept contemplating his fate. He had already been here two days; so far, he had found no way back to civilisation or any trace of his men. Would he ever see England again? And where were his companions? Had they survived or where they dead? And then there was this mystery with his brother; what had happened to Richard? Maybe Mufasa was still withholding something more from him? In spite of his uneasy thoughts, he was exhausted and soon drifted off to sleep, plagued by nightmares of his brother being thrown to his death by an unseen assailant with a sinister laugh…

By the morning of the third day in the Pride Lands, Harry felt much better, his heath quickly returning. It was such that on that day he found himself accompanying Mufasa on one of his 'morning rounds', a routine walk where the king would go around the kingdom in person, inspecting for problems and ensuring order. Like a farmer tending to his cattle, Mufasa proceeded to inspect each of the herds from a safe distance, as the indifferent animals grazed peacefully by their waterholes.

Harry was observing the carefully arranged order of the 'kingdom', amazed by the bounty of nature, which surpassed even the best farms in the world. Frustrated by not having some paper and ink to document all of this, he listened to Mufasa explain the secret to his leadership over this entire ecosystem.

"All the creatures exist together in a delicate balance; as king, it is my duty, aside from defending the pride from harm, to maintain that balance and eliminate all threats to it. Other than rogues, who often come seeking to seize leadership, our greatest enemies are scavengers, including hyenas and vultures. Those careless, foul creatures tend to multiply uncontrollably until they risk overwhelming our herds. On Richard's advice, we carefully listed the creatures that pose the greatest threat and offer the least contribution to the Great Circle of Life and drove them out, greatly improving the stability of the kingdom."

"The Great Circle of Life? I presume that is your name for the natural cycle?" Harry asked, trying to relate Mufasa's philosophy to his own academic knowledge. For centuries, humanity sought to understand and master the functions of nature; Mufasa's kind had apparently attempted likewise, aided by the information gained from occasional human visitors, including Sir Joshua and Richard. Mufasa smiled at his guest's understanding of his philosophy.

"My father always said that even though we may not be of the same species, the Circle of Life unites us in a common bond. We kill and eat the antelope or the zebra or the buffalo, yet when we die our bodies become fresh grass which our prey eats to survive. We are all connected in the Great Circle of Life."

"That's what nature is all about Mufasa; shame many people back in my world, blinded by their quest for profit and power, tend to negate the fact that we are all part of nature. There are some things about human civilisation which I had being associated with, including humanity's temptation of inventing more effective ways to kill and destroy each other. Both as a doctor and a soldier, I have had the misfortune of witnessing such atrocities up close, sometimes even forced to participate to fulfil my duty to my homeland. The war going on back home is a direct result of a competition for power."

"And do you believe that all this killing and fighting will resolve anything?" Mufasa asked in a neutral voice. Harry considered for a moment; he could understand Mufasa was actually testing him, to determine his feelings regarding his kind's endless quest for power.

"I would be lying if I stated that I completely disapprove of the war effort," the doctor-turned soldier replied grimly, "I believe it is your right to kill in self-defence or to protect those around you. But killing for greed or simply to demonstrate your power is an atrocity. I recall, when we escaped the Front, one of the enemy accidentally ended up stranded with us; at first, we were all yielding to the impulse of killing him but then relented when we saw he was unarmed and in no position to pose a threat."

"Sometimes showing mercy to your worst enemy is your triumph," Mufasa said, reciting another of his philosophies, "If your kill a helpless opponent in cold blood, with the sole purpose of venting your hate onto him, you will still be giving him the satisfaction of sinking to his level on his account." Harry could have clapped; while this philosophy would have very little meaning in the War Office back in London, to him it certainly reflected what the spirit of the majority of humanity lacked the most. In spite of his determination of finding his men and figuring a way back to civilisation, Harry couldn't help but feel a strong bond with this strange new world...

Later that afternoon, as they made their way back to Pride Rock to eat, Mufasa took Harry to a rocky outcrop at the back of Pride Rock, hidden amidst the trees that decorated the majestic rock formation. The lion king went and stood before a stone, which stood out from the surrounding rocks because of its unnatural smooth corners, looking as if it had been worked on by a human hand. Sure enough, bending for a closer look, Harry spotted an inscription engraved in the headstone:

HERE REST IN PEACE

SIR JOSHUA CODY AND HIS WIFE ROSA

THE FIRST EXPLORERS TO DISCOVER THE PRIDE LANDS

WHILEST IN THE SERVICE OF HER SOVEREIGN MAJESTY

QUEEN VICTORIA OF ENGLAND.

SUCCUMBED TO MALARIA ON THE 26TH JUNE

IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 1882

Harry sighed as he stared at the long forgotten graves of the Codies, the first British explorers to visit the Pride Lands during the colonisation of Central Africa in the 19th century, but whose discovery was never believed by the Royal Society. Their journals however, which had been brought back to England by their porters, following their deaths, had eventually ended up in the hands of Richard who chose to follow in their footsteps, which brought him all the way to this plateau.

Turning back to Mufasa, he saw the massive lion digging at a patch of soil between two boulders at the base of his home. Harry watched amazed, as the soil suddenly fell away, revealing another cave, which had been sealed off after years of mudslides caused by the heavy climate of the Pride Lands. Glancing inside, he saw the cave was in fact a former human shelter; some crudely-made furniture fashioned out of branches lay scattered about, as well as an old makeshift fireplace in the centre of the cave. Everything was coated in decades of dust and cobwebs, testifying to the long-term desolation of the place.

Stepping inside the shelter for a better look, Harry saw more signs of past human visitors; a selection of decaying artefacts, including a few empty bottles, a bowl of used gun cartridges, a broken lantern, some mouldy rags, a pail, a few rusted tools and instruments, as well as a few other odds and ends, each dating from different time periods, lay scattered around the cave. Picking up an empty corned beef can, bearing the crest of a familiar British brand on its fading label, he read the date of canning as 1912, testifying to his brother's visit to the plateau.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much, and time and nature had long since taken their toll on all this junk left behind by past explorers, leaving nothing useful for Harry to salvage. Nonetheless, he made a mental note of returning later to have a better look. As if reading his mind, Mufasa spoke.

"We reserve this cave as living quarters for any likely guests. Ever since Richard disappeared, it has been left unattended…Anyway, I was wondering, maybe you would like to set up home here? You're still welcome to sleep in the main cave if you like, but I think some humans appreciate their privacy…"

"That will do just fine Mufasa," Harry replied, pleased with the offer. He knew that some of the lionesses weren't too happy with him sharing their sleeping area and a private spot would offer him some good advantages during his stay here…however long that would be. The more he thought about it, the more he couldn't help but feel more and more at home in this strange land he was stranded in…

Author's note: Coming up next, we shift a few weeks forward, following Harry's adjustment to the new world and continue the LK story from canon. Also, the name Sir Joshua Cody is borrowed from _Crossing Boundaries_ by Hewylewis. Enjoy and please review!


	8. Chapter 8 The Elephant Graveyard

Harry walked along his usual trail to the waterhole for his customary morning bath. It had been almost six months since his arrival in the Pride Lands, during which time he had adjusted reasonably well to his new life on the plateau. Although still lacking many comforts, he had slowly learned how to make fire, hunt and provide for himself all the bare necessities of life. Unfortunately, so far there had been no sign of his men; although he would still spend an hour every morning and evening looking from atop Pride Rock for any signs of human life, all to no avail, he no longer believed he was looking for living people.

His relationship with the lions, on the other hand, remained as good as ever. With the exception of Scar and Zira, who remained as resentful and scornful as ever, yet luckily avoided him, the rest of the pride had all come to count him as one of them, making his stay as pleasant as it could be. The best part of his unique friendship was his relationship with the cubs. Prince Simba, Mufasa's son, had grown into an adorable and playful cub, while Sarafina had given birth to a daughter, a sweet, blue-eyed, tan-coloured cub named Nala. Both cubs were playful by nature and their favourite fun time was Harry's loving company.

Although technically a dignified adult, who had no time for childishness, Harry adored the cubs and would spend hours every day entertaining them with stories of his world, as well as with any games he invented. In spite of his isolation from civilisation and humanity, as well as his rapidly diminishing chances of ever returning home again, he felt more content with his fate with every passing day and would make the most of it.

Today was another routine day; a morning bath, to be followed by the daily hunt, household chores back in his cave and finally, afternoon relaxation with the rest of the pride. As he removed his rapidly wearing boots and shirt and strode down to the water's edge to take the plunge, he heard a familiar rustling sound from the undergrowth nearby; he smiled, recognising the all-too-familiar snickering of the cubs, as they prepared to pounce him unawares.

Playing oblivious, he stood at the edge of the waterhole, keeping his ears extended, tracking the cubs' movements. Just as he heard the familiar kitten-like growl, he ducked, narrowly missing the charging cub that came flying through the air towards him. With a lightning reflex, he grabbed the cub around the waist, "Thought you'd pounce me you little rascal?" he said, playfully ruffling the wriggling cub on the head.

"Harry, cut it out!" Simba squalled as Harry continued ruffling and tickling him. Just then, Nala emerged from the bushes, giggling at the sight of Simba thrashing about helplessly in the man's embrace.

"So what was that about the great Simba who can pounce anyone?" she asked, holding back tears of laughter. Simba pulled a face at her, causing her to raise her eyebrows, "Harry, give him a bath!" The man smiled at the young lioness.

"With pleasure, cupcake," he said, turning towards the waterhole. Simba continued squealing and pleading, realising his predicament, "No, wait! Harry, no…!" But the soldier took no notice and with a powerful, yet gentle toss, sent the prince diving headfirst into the waterhole. The cub resurfaced, glaring at his two friends, yet Harry's playful wink made him smile mischievously, realising someone else was next in line for a dip. Sure enough, Harry turned to Nala, who was rolling on the ground with laughter.

Catching her unawares, he picked her up and marched towards the edge of the waterhole, carrying the squalling cub under his arm, "Harry, no! I don't like water…!"

"Payback is fair sweetie," Harry said and without another word, he tossed her into the water beside Simba. The cub glared at him, yet Harry could tell from the look in her eyes she was enjoying it. Then, without warning, he suddenly gave a leap and jumped into the waterhole as well. The cubs screamed in terror and tried to swim away, only to be caught by the tsunami. Before she knew what was happening, Nala found herself again in the man's tight embrace as Harry started tickling her mercilessly. In an instant, she was lost in gales of uncontrollable laughter, writhing and begging for the tickling to stop, while Simba looked on with amusement, "Show her Harry!" The evil grin on his face faded however when Harry suddenly grabbed hold of him as well and started tickling him along with Nala.

Soon, the laughter and squalling of both cubs filled the air as they struggled against their captor; although both of them, being lions, were quite strong for their age, Harry was still much bigger and stronger as he kept them helplessly pinned in his embrace. Finally, they gave him a true plea to stop so he relented and let them go. The cubs, still laughing at the fun, swam back to shore to dry off.

Finished with his bath, Harry joined the cubs as they settled down on the savannah grass, admiring the view of the horizon. After six months of living in the Pride Lands, Harry had become accustomed to the stunning landscape of this paradise he was trapped in, possibly for the rest of his life. Although it was definitely a big change from the trenches, where there had been no time for a decent night's sleep, let alone having fun with youngsters, Harry still felt like a prisoner, exiled from civilisation forever.

As he sat there, admiring the view, with the cubs snuggling up against him in silent fondness, Harry suddenly heard the all-too-familiar morning roar of Mufasa coming from inside the den. The rest of the Pride was waking up as well. Carrying the cubs on his shoulders, he turned and headed back to Pride Rock. They met the King and Queen at the cave entrance.

"Good morning, Harry," Mufasa greeted, giving him a nudge, as the man put Simba down, who run over to nuzzle against his mother, while Nala rushed into the den to greet hers.

"Morning to you too Mufasa," Harry replied curtly, giving his host a respectful nod. After six months of living with the lions, he had become accustomed to their presence and would no longer flinch each time he walked around a corner and found himself face-to-face with these strange talking predators. Meanwhile, Simba had run up to his father and was circling his legs, wild with excitement.

"Dad's going to show me the whole kingdom, Harry," he said excitedly, grinning at his human friend, "Want to join us?" Harry smiled down at the cub, amused by his childish innocence, "Of course laddie."

He followed Simba and Mufasa up to the very top of Pride Rock, where they had the best view of the kingdom, stretching all the way out to the horizon. Harry remembered when Mufasa had brought him up here for the first time, only a few days after his arrival, after he had regained enough strength to climb the Rock. From here, Harry would spend several hours each day, looking for signs of his missing companions, but all in vein. Eventually, he had given up altogether, yet couldn't resist admiring the stunning view, which could be seen from nowhere else in the Pride Lands.

"Look Simba," Mufasa said, looking towards the rising sun on the eastern horizon, "Everything the light touches is our kingdom." Beside him, his son gave an expression of amazement as Mufasa went on speaking.

"A king's time as ruler rises and falls like the sun; one day Simba, the sun will set on my time here and will rise with you as the new king," he said, smiling down at his son. Behind them, Harry smiled at the close bond between father and son, slightly envying their happiness as a family, one, which he might probably never know again if he was to be stuck here forever.

"And this will all be mine?" asked the cub excitedly, looking at the gold-coloured savannah, which stretched out to the horizon, the outline of the plateau's edge barely visible in the distance, followed by the endless Sahara desert, "What about that shadowy place over there?"

"That vile place is beyond our borders," Mufasa said, his expression suddenly turning stern, "You must never go there Simba. Do you understand?" The cub seemed a little surprised at his father's harsh tone but nodded anyway, yet Harry didn't miss a sly expression cross the cub's face as he turned to look in the direction of the dark valley on the northern border of the Pride Lands.

Harry remembered when Mufasa had first brought him up here and he had inquired about that place as well, the king had explained it was a valley where elderly elephants went to die, leaving their bodies for scavengers to gnaw away at. These scavengers, mostly hyenas, exiled from the Pride Lands for their destructive nature, were holed up in there, like gangs of bandits. These exiled wretches would often cause trouble in the Pride Lands, forcing Mufasa to take drastic measures to protect his family and people from harm. That place was hardly appropriate for a young and helpless cub, not to mention the son of their sworn enemy and knowing Simba's curiosity, Harry couldn't help but feel a bit concerned, yet shrugged it off. He returned to the base of Pride Rock to join the morning hunt, to get his breakfast.

It was nearly midday when Harry finally returned with the lionesses, dragging the carcasses of several large buffalos behind them for the meal. Although Mufasa had reassured Harry that, as a royal guest, he didn't have to earn his keep, the man, mostly inspired by Scar's rude remarks of how 'useless' he was round here, had insisted he be of some use to those around him. Since he had no firearms to use for hunting or defence, he had set out to improvise best he could.

Using a few rusted pistol balls left behind by past explorers in the cave Mufasa had given him to use as his private quarters, his handkerchief and some rope he had fashioned out of reeds, he had made a balas. With some practice, this ancient hunting implement had earned him the reputation of a good hunter, as well as renewed hatred from Zira for surpassing her own hunting reputation. Using an arranged strategy, where the lionesses would ambush unsuspecting prey their way, while Harry would go after any fleeing animals using his balas, the hunt outcome had soon doubled.

With more meat to spare, Harry had also set out to improvise means of preserving and storing it. Since he had no salt or cans to keep it in, instead, he had bled, gutted and skinned his kill, before cutting it up, cooking it well and then drying it. The outcome were strips of dried meat, which, although not as long-lasting as the salted beef used in the British Army, it provided a good nourishment, which could last for weeks at a time. His success in preserving and keeping food had even filled his mind with ideas of securing enough food to attempt a trek back to civilisation on foot. But then, he had reminded himself that he still lacked a lot more necessities, the most important of all being that he had no way of getting down from the plateau to begin with. No, like it or not, he was here to stay.

With Mufasa having taken Simba with him on his morning rounds, on his first lesson on how to run the kingdom, and Nala being given a bath by her mother, Harry found himself alone and decided to tend to some work back in his cave. Even after six months, without tools, he was still labouring to make his new accommodation comfortable enough to live in.

So far, he had succeeded in making some simple furniture out of crudely cut chunks of wood, including a cot, a table and a bench, which he had acquired with an improvised stone axe. An empty rum bottle, possibly left behind by Sir Cody's expedition, served as a reservoir for water, saving him the long walk all the way down to the waterhole for a drink, a very common occurrence in this warn climate. Finally, a rusted plate, suspended from the ceiling from an old chain, filled with suet and a rag wick, served as a lamp for light. In the centre of the cave was a hole, which served as a stove and fireplace, the smock escaping through a hole he had managed to cut through the ceiling with an old pickaxe he had found.

As he made his way to his cave, carrying a large chunk of wildebeest meat for cooking, he was suddenly startled by someone clearing his throat to get his attention. Turning, he saw, to his utter amazement, Scar sitting on a rock nearby, as if expecting him. Harry frowned; so far, Mufasa's stepbrother had made it clear he had not the least liking for him and would keep his distance, whenever he wasn't scorning him. So why would he want to pay him a visit now?

"Good afternoon Harry," Scar said in a silky voice, "My apologies for the intrusion…"

"Don't mention it," Harry replied coolly, suspicious of the sly lion's behaviour, "Is there something I can do for you?"

"I heard what happened today," Scar said, "Congratulations on your success with your new hunting implement; my brother says you've done a great contribution to the pride that he can't possibly repay. What a joke, when he's keeping the truth from you to hide his shame…" He suddenly stopped talking, bringing a paw up to his mouth, as if he had just swallowed his tongue. Whether the sly lion had just let something slip, or simply pretending to, Harry didn't know at that moment, nor did he care, for Scar's words had caught his interest.

"What are you talking about?" he asked suspiciously, looking the lion directly in the eyes. Even after six months, although Mufasa had always been honest with him, the one topic he would always try to avoid was about Richard. Although Harry had given up any hope of finding his brother alive anymore, the fact that Mufasa had no idea what had become of him had felt very frustrating. And while he had suspected that his host might know something more than what he was letting on, Harry hadn't expected Scar to be the one to come forward. "Has this got something to do with my brother?"

"Oh dear me, I said too much," Scar said with a sigh of false exasperation, which Harry failed to notice due to his mind suddenly having gone blank at the realisation that Mufasa had indeed been keeping something from him after all. The moment had finally come for answers.

"What is it you know?" Harry insisted, "What happened to Richard? Well, out with it!" Scar looked around, as if making sure nobody was eavesdropping on them, before turning back to Harry.

"The night your brother…disappeared, I followed him and saw where he went," Scar said softly, "Harry, he went straight into the Elephant Graveyard!" Harry's head instantly turned in the direction of the northern border of the Pride Lands, which he had observed so many times from atop Pride Rock. Therefore, he didn't notice the sly smile form across Scar's face, as the traitorous lion realised he had just said the magic words to spike Harry's temptation. But he still had to make sure that this conversation remained a secret until the inevitable happened.

"Harry," he said with a false tone of pleading, "Please don't say anything to my brother about what I just told you. He too knows where Richard went, but has ordered everyone who knew to keep their mouths shut about it, to protect his reputation as king…" Although Harry felt sure that Scar was most likely exaggerating about his brother valuing his royal reputation over Richard's fate, now that he had picked up his brother's trail again, he was determined to find out the truth once and for all. Giving the scrawny lion a nod of reassurance, he turned and headed back into his cave. Scar, satisfied that the human had taken the bait, left him without another word.

His appetite completely forgotten, Harry sat down to try and reason things out. After everything he had just heard, it seemed that something bad had happened to Richard out there, causing him to vanish. Although the chances of him still being alive remained as low as ever, Harry couldn't help but wonder, what could have happened? Why had Richard gone out there in the first place, if it was dangerous? Perhaps he had found a possible way off the plateau?

His mind flashed back to Mufasa's warning that that place was dangerous and off-limits; disobeying him and venturing into that place would undoubtedly not sit well with the king if he found out. Then again, the temptation to finally solve the riddle surrounding his brother's disappearance was too great to resist when he was literally only a short trek away from the truth.

_Wake up Harry!_ he thought, _You're a soldier for crying out loud! You've lived through the worst war in history and now you can't handle venturing through a bone yard full of scavengers?_ His mind made up, he walked over to the cave wall, where his sword hung on a peg. Drawing it out from its sheath, making sure it was well sharpened and cleaned, he fastened it to his belt, grabbed his hat and hurried out. Making sure no one was watching him, to avoid being held up, he marched off, heading straight towards the Elephant Graveyard. Little did he know that he wasn't the only victim of a set-up, heading straight into a death trap…

Meanwhile, Scar had met up with Zira in their cave and told her what had happened.

"So much for Harry," he said with a sickly smile, "Mind you, I did him a favour. Pretty soon, he will be finally reunited with his dear departed brother, just as he wished to."

"Just where that insolent human belongs in the first place," Zira said wickedly, nuzzling her mate under the chin, "He has no business here, stealing away our good standing or corrupting your foolish brother with his vile ways."

"And to add to our triumph, my dear foolish nephew will soon be out of the way as well," he smirked, remembering how Simba had come back early today, after Mufasa had gone to deal with some trespassing hyenas. With Harry out hunting with the lionesses and Nala having a bath, the cub had come pestering his uncle for some fun, never realising how much Scar disliked him. Sure enough, the sly lion had seized the opportunity and 'accidentally' let it slip about the Elephant Graveyard to his nephew as well, spiking the cub's interest. Although he had 'made' Simba promise not to go there, he knew how his nephew couldn't resist visiting such a place…and that was exactly what he wanted.

"Two birds with one stone," he said, staring in the direction of the Elephant Graveyard, where his nephew and his brother's guest were heading, hopefully towards their doom. By the time Mufasa returned and realised where they had gone, it would be too late to do anything other than mourn them, "I couldn't have planned this better myself. Are the boys ready to greet them?"

"As ready as that bunch of morons can ever be," Zira replied with a frown, "Frankly, I wouldn't trust those useless idiots with killing a meerkat," she sneered, strongly disapproving of her mate's secret minions, whom she had run up ahead to alert of Simba's arrival.

"A killing right in the heart of their lair can be guaranteed even with their limited intelligence," Scar muttered confidently, "They've got the brutality, not to mention the _hunger_, of killing a couple of helpless cubs and a human who can't defend himself without his special implements. Even Harry's courage and craftiness isn't enough to overwhelm their numbers. Now, we wait patiently…for the good news to arrive." The couple chuckled evilly; if their plan went well, then soon Scar would once again be first in line for the throne. That would leave only Mufasa as the last obstacle to absolute power…

Meanwhile, Harry had reached the edge of the Elephant Graveyard; so far the trek had gone without incident, which was just fine by him. He could see by now that this place was a real dump: piles and piles of animal bones, mostly elephants, some still coated in rotting flesh, lay scattered about. The smell of rot and decay was overwhelming.

Suddenly, as he stared down at the ground, he noticed there were two recent pairs of animal tracks leading towards the Graveyard. Upon closer inspection, he realised they were lion cub paw prints. Before he could register the fact that he wasn't the only one venturing into hostile territory, he suddenly saw a familiar figure fly overhead; Zazu had appeared from among the piles of skeletons and was flying back towards Pride Rock. Catching sight of Harry, he turned round and landed on a rock in front of him, looking utterly terrified. Something was up.

"Zazu? What the hell happened to you? What the bloody hell…?" Harry gasped, not failing to notice that the major-domo had several ugly scratches on his wings, indicating the aftermath of a struggle with some wild animal. Sure enough, no sooner had Zazu caught his breath, than he turned hysteric.

"It's Simba and Nala!" he gasped in terror, not bothering to chastise Harry for being here in the first place, "The children decided to make an escapade in there and run foul of the hyenas! I've got to get Mufasa!" Without another word, he took flight again, heading back towards Pride Rock to get help. But Harry, realizing that by the time Mufasa arrived it would probably be too late, turned and hurried straight into the Graveyard.

Drawing his sword, his old military instincts from the trenches alight once again, he followed the sounds of voices coming from right behind a collapsed elephant skeleton up ahead. Taking cover behind the skull, he peered over the tusk and saw a chilling sight.

Simba and Nala were there, surrounded by three slobbery and menacing hyenas. Nala was shrunk up against her friend, trembling with fear. Simba, to Harry's amazement, was doing his best to shield her from the menacing beasts, yet he could tell that the cub was fighting the urge not to panic. Quietly, he crawled around the skull, approaching from the direction from which he'd have the best defence position.

"Puh! You slobbery, mangy, stupid poachers can't do anything to me! You touch the future king and you'll pay for it!" One of the hyenas, a female, which seemed to be the leader of the pack, sneered nastily, while another male, with an expression that rivalled even the biggest London drunk Harry had even seen, roared with insane laughter. A second male however, seemingly offended by the remark, narrowed his eyes dangerously and barred his teeth aggressively.

"Can't do anything, can I?" he sneered coldly, as Simba, realising his mistake in provoking the hyena's temper, backed away, cowering, "We shall see about that right now. I'll teach you a lesson in manners!" Before he could strike however, Harry suddenly stepped forward and brought the tip of his sword up the unsuspecting hyena's left nostril. Motioning to the cubs, which were overjoyed to see him, to take cover behind him, Harry turned to face his opponents.

"Joust touch them and I'll split you open like a goose! Now, push off!" The hyenas, although surprised at the unexpected newcomer barging in on them, turned to sneer at Harry.

"And just who do you think you are pal, giving us orders?" sneered the hyena called Shenzi, while Banzai rubbed his nose where Harry had touched him with his sword, "Another of Mufasa's little stooges no doubt! Going to turn tail and run like that snuck-up hornbill sent to watch over the _Prince_ and his little girlfriend?"

"No," replied Harry coolly, never sparing so much as a glance, "I am either going to watch you take my advice and step aside, so that the three of us may leave here without any further trouble, or I'll slit you lot of gutter rats from throat to belly, one by one, and then pass through anyway. The choice is yours!" The hyenas seemed momentarily surprised by Harry's violent remarks but then sneered evilly.

"And who says you need to pass through _us_?" sneered Shenzi, "I believe there are a few strapping lads eager to rise to the challenge. Isn't that right, Banzai? Ed?" she said, gesturing over Harry's shoulder. Turning round, Harry and the cubs saw something that chilled them to the bones; standing between them and the boundaries of the Graveyard were at least a couple dozens of hyenas, undoubtedly having gathered while Harry had been busy threatening the trio, were closing in for the kill.

Cursing himself for not having anticipated that these monsters would have backup stationed all around, he turned, his sword grasped firmly in his hand and the terrified cubs clinging to his legs in silent terror, struggling to figure out a way out of this seemingly inescapable corner they were caught in…

Author's note: My sincere apologies for the lengthy delay, but I have had a difficult summer. Unfortunately, the rate of updating will continue to be slow, as I am nearing my graduation, as well as my searching for a job. However, I promise to finish this story eventually. Enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW! Until next time then!


	9. Chapter 9 A Missing Brother Found

Harry stared at the murderous mob of hungry hyenas closing in on them for the kill. There were at least a dozen of those murderous scavengers circling him and the cubs, and most likely, twice as many more between them and the boundaries of the boneyard.

Although he had encountered similar tight corners before on the Front, including the last one that had landed him in German captivity, at least then he had had proper weapons to hold his ground. Now he only had his sword to defend himself and, while the hyenas obviously used no guns, their overwhelming numbers put them in a rather tricky situation, to say the least. To his utmost dismay, he also realised that these scavengers, dumb as they might be, were following their hunger instincts, taking up positions between them and the boundaries, trapping them within their territory, like mice in a trap.

Staring over his shoulder, Harry saw the only remaining direction of retreat: into the depths of the Elephant Graveyard. Although it sounded like guaranteed suicide to take the cubs, now under his sole responsibility, and fleeing deeper into this death-trap hellhole, which was undoubtedly infested with more hungry hyenas, he had no choice, if he wanted to buy them enough time until Zazu could bring back reinforcements. He turned to Simba and Nala, now clinging to his legs, whimpering in fear at the sight of the drooling killers approaching.

"Simba, when I give the word, take Nala and head for that cliff back there," he said, gesturing towards a rocky slope in the heart of the graveyard, "Don't stop for anything and climb as high as you can get…"

"B…but what about you Harry?" asked Simba fearfully, realising what the soldier had in mind, "Let me help you…" Although Harry adored the cub's heart, if not his foolishness in coming here in the first place, he knew he would have to do this alone, if he were to give the cubs a chance to escape.

"What I need you to do Simba," he said, slightly more sternly, yet calmly, despite the danger, "Is take Nala and get yourselves up to higher ground. I'll join you up there shortly…_if I am still in one piece_," he thought grimly. Catching the hint, the royal cub nodded and, ushering Nala towards him, the cubs turned and fled as fast as their legs would carry them, leaving Harry, sword in hand, standing between them and the advancing enemy.

"Hey, did we order this dinner to go?" asked the hyena Banzai to his matriarch, who was busy sizing out the menacing human before her, "No, why?"

"Because, there it goes!" roared the brutal hyena to his companions, all of which turned and noticed the fleeing cubs. Some of them were about to give chase, but found their way blocked by Harry, "Come on, you dogs, and taste the steel of Captain Van Owen!" The hyenas, seemingly resigned to a larger meal rather than two measly cubs, diverted their attention back to Harry. In an instant, hell had broken loose.

Although the trio kept their distance from Harry, their reinforcements seemed bolder as they closed in for the kill. Suddenly one hyena leapt at Harry, who flashed his sword through the air, slitting the attacking hyena's torso wide open, like a frog on a laboratory table. The dissected carcass fell to the ground at Harry's feet, causing the rest of the pack to momentarily draw back in fear; a fear that was instantly replaced with vengeful anger.

"That human has killed Ragwort!" someone growled, "Kill him!" The remaining hyenas regrouped and renewed the attack. Like vermin, they fell upon Harry in twos and threes, thinking their larger numbers would soon overwhelm the murderous human. But Harry, who had anticipated this move and was a skilled swordsman to boot, flashed his weapon with almost lightning speed, killing or maiming any hyena that came into its path.

Sending the head of another hyena rolling off its owner's shoulders and down a hole like a ball on a pool table, amputating the forepaws of another that tried to claw at him, and stabbing a third that tried to tackle him through the liver, he backed away against a nearby bone pile, so that the enemy couldn't tackle him from behind, as he continued fighting. Suddenly, he noticed the leading hyena trio slip away from the advancing mob; leaving him preoccupied, they were going after the cubs!

Slaying yet another hyena, the soldier switched tactics; suddenly, he charged headlong into the murderous mob, slaying more hyenas with his sword and punching others with his free hand, as he forced his way out, intent on reaching the cubs before the hyenas did. Unfortunately, now he was entirely surrounded and even his good fighting skills and his sword weren't enough to drive back the murderous mob.

Several hyenas seized the opportunity and tackled him from behind; the first he managed to stab dead but another latched itself on his shoulders, sharp claws tearing through his uniform into his flesh, its snare-like jaws going for his neck. Unable to get a clear shot with his sword, Harry did the only thing that came to mind: reaching behind him, he seized the hyena by the testicles - a technique he had learned in the officer's training corps back home. In an instant, the hyena had released its grip on his neck and was howling in pain, as it fell to the ground.

Unfortunately, in the distraction, another hyena suddenly launched itself at Harry, biting hard on his right wrist; in a pain reflex, he dropped his sword, which fell away down a slope and into a bone pile, just out of reach. Now unarmed, Harry resorted to physical means of defence, as he balled his hands into fists. Breaking the ribs of an attacker and snapping the neck of another, he suddenly heard a cry of fear coming from the direction where Simba and Nala had run; the cubs were in trouble.

Ignoring the pain of his wounds, as well as his staggering exhaustion from the scuffle that was about to bring him to his knees, Harry put all his remaining strength against the murderous pack and burst straight through them like a battering ram. This sent him plummeting down an incline into the bone pile where his sword had fallen, taking several of the hyenas with him. Wincing at the stabbing pains of the shattered bones that met him on impact like a carpet of nails, he seized his retrieved sword and, killing another of the hyenas blocking his way, followed the cubs' trail, praying he wasn't too late.

Approaching the foot of an incline, he saw the cubs struggling to climb up a landslide of bones, the hyena trio in hot pursuit. He felt his blood run cold as he saw a panicked Nala lose her footing and tumble down the landslide, straight towards the approaching hyena matriarch. The terrified cub was screaming in terror, expecting to die, "Simba, help! Simba, please!"

Up top, Simba turned and saw his best friend plummeting straight into the jaws of death itself and, to Harry's utmost shock, doubled back to help her. Before the man could shout at the prince to keep running, the foolish, yet brave cub had torn back down the incline…and jumped right between the retreating Nala and the attacking Shenzi!

"NO!"

Before Harry knew what was happening, the damage was done; Shenzi's wide-open jaws, going for Nala, instead snapped shut around _Simba_! A blood-chilling scream of pain split through the air as the murderous predator, either not having realised it had the wrong victim or too hungry to care, seized the screaming cub, shaking it around in a bloodbath, about to rip him in half and devour him. And that precisely would have happened in another minute, if Harry hadn't caught up.

His sword already raised in the run, Harry struck the hyena with all his might; the blade of the weapon chopped through Shenzi's spine at the base of the neck, severing the head from the rest of her body. The headless carcass crumpled to the ground, a small torrent of blood leaking out the neck wound.

"You keep away from him, bitch!" snarled Harry as he loosened the stiffening jaws from around Simba, expecting the worst. To his utmost relief, his little friend was miraculously still alive but a most heart-wrenching sight indeed. The cub was only semiconscious by now from trauma and shock but could still recognise Harry, as he mumbled, "Am I…am I going to die, Harry?"

"No lad, you are not going to die! Try not to talk; I'll get you out of here. Just hang on!" The cub's majestic, golden-brown fur was soaked in blood, leaking out of gaping teeth wounds torn into his flesh. Although there didn't seem to be any broken bones, the amount of bleeding told Harry, who could assess an injury on the spot from his past experience as a surgeon, human or animal alike, that this was a medical emergency. But there was no time for evaluating a prognosis at the moment for the remaining hyenas had regrouped and were coming after them.

Picking up the injured cub under one arm and still clutching his sword with the other, Harry scaled the incline, making it up to a ledge that led into some sort of cave in the cliff. There, he found Nala crouched against the wall at the entrance, eyes tight shut, crying and whimpering in horror. When the cub had made it to the top, she had turned around for Simba, only to see the wicked hyena matriarch snatch her friend in a death grip. Unable to look at the terrible sight, she had hurryingly turned away and thus, hadn't seen Harry save Simba from certain death…for the moment at least.

Feeling the man's presence above her, the cub screamed and recoiled in terror, thinking that those murderous scavengers had caught up with her as well, "No! Please, have mercy! I don't want to die…!" It was only Harry's voice that snapped her out of her hysteria.

"Easy sweetheart, it's just me!"

Nala seemed utterly relieved at the sight of Harry but cringed at his ghastly appearance, with his shredded, bloodstained uniform, which was drenched in the blood of the dead hyenas as well as his own, and the bloodstained sword still clutched in his hand. At the sight of the mauled, bloodied Simba tucked under his arm, she gasped and burst into tears.

"No! Simba, please don't be dead! Please, I…" she wept, nuzzling her friend to answer her, who had lost consciousness by now from loss of blood and lay limply in Harry's grip like the dead, but was actually still alive. "He…died to save my life… "

"It's all right Nala, he's still alive," Harry said, trying to reassure the distraught cub. Nala's head shot up at those words, bearing an expression of utmost relief, "He…he's _alive_?"

"Yes, but you mustn't bother yourself with that right now," Harry went on, turning the cub to face him, his face serious, "Nala, you have to get out of here now. Those hyenas won't take long to catch up. When they do, I need you take Simba – drag him if you must – and run for it. I'll try and keep them busy while you run for it. Don't stop until you've reached Pride Rock and…"

"Harry, please don't leave me on my own…" Nala pleaded, terrified of the prospect of having to drag an injured Simba to safety all by herself, with the strong likelihood of meeting more hyenas on the way. Harry too, seemed to be reconsidering his decision for a last stand to give the cubs a chance to make it out of this death trap alive, as he glanced at the dark cave opening beside them. There was something aerie about that place, almost as if Harry felt some kind of strange connection to it, which he couldn't quite place at the moment.

Glancing back down the slope, he saw the remaining hyenas approaching. Led by the late matriarch's second-in-command, the hyena Harry remembered was called Banzai, and his retarded sidekick Ed, the clan crowded around Shenzi's decapitated body, staring in shock and outrage at the death of their matriarch. Banzai looked up and saw the three intruders on the cliff. His ugly face contorted with fury.

"You miserable wretch will die slowly and painfully for this! You and those measly cubs will never get out of here alive…!" But Harry didn't wait to hear the rest of it. Knowing they only had another minute or so before the rest of the clan would make their way up here, he took Nala and, still carrying the injured Simba, they hurried into the cave, hoping to find another way out of the Graveyard through there.

The cave turned out to be an ancient tear in the cliff, forming a tunnel in the rock, with no indication when it led to. The passage narrowed as they hurryingly followed it and, as Harry had feared, only led to a dead end only a few hundred yards inside. However, there was more to be found than just a solid wall.

The passage ended in a large, dimly lit grotto; the skeleton of a buffalo lay against the far wall, beneath a high ledge overlooking the cave. For an instant Harry was overjoyed at the sight of that ledge, which led into another tunnel, with sunlight coming from beyond, indicating a possible way out. But then he realised it was too high, even for him, to climb up. And meanwhile, he could hear the hyenas approaching fast, coming for them.

With Nala cowering between his legs and Simba still unconscious, Harry desperately scanned the cavern for anything he could use as a weapon; a stone, a sharp bone, anything… Suddenly, he noticed something lying on the floor nearby which, through the gloom, looked like some scattered bones and debris. But it wasn't more animal bones from the Graveyard; Harry's eyes fell upon a skull – a _human_ skull - attached to a gnawed ribcage, a pelvis and a pair of leg bones, still wearing a pair of shrivelled boots. They were staring at the skeletal remains of a human being!

For an instant Harry was stunned; where could this man have come from and who could he have been? A quick glance at a brass belt buckle, a silver pocket watch and several brass buttons that lay amidst the bones, told him the man was definitely not local, probably European. Staring beside the body, he also saw a scattered assortment of artefacts, all coated in dust, which had apparently been the dead man's personal possessions: a backpack, a shredded trench coat, a smashed camera still attached to its toppled tripod, a kerosene lantern, a shotgun, a broken gramophone and a smashed champagne bottle, all of which were of an English brand… Harry felt his heart sink as he realised he had finally found the remains of his late brother Richard.

Ever since Richard had left home all those years ago and disappeared, Harry had held onto the hope that maybe his brother would come back someday. But now, the sight of the gnawed skeleton had just shattered that hope for good; Richard was dead, apparently killed by the same hyenas pursuing them. The hyenas! Harry's shock instantly turned to vengeful anger, as he turned and saw several of those murderous brutes that had killed his brother and now had left Simba on the brink of death… There would be hell to pay for those miserable creatures!

Picking up Richard's discarded shotgun, he hurryingly went through his brother's backpack, looking for ammunition. Just as the hyenas appeared at the cave entrance, he fished out a pouch containing about a dozen cartridges; a limited supply but it should suffice. Just as the hyenas made their way towards them, their mouths drooling with hunger and their expressions bloodthirsty, Harry finished loading the gun and turned to face the enemy, now armed with a deadly weapon.

Meanwhile, Nala lay curled up in the far corner with Simba, who was wrapped up in Harry's uniform, making him as comfortable as possible. Although she had no idea what Harry had in mind to save their skins, his confidence in the face of a seemingly stronger enemy seemed to encourage her somewhat as she tended to Simba, leaving Harry to do the rest.

As the entire hyena clan stormed in for the kill, Harry opened fire; the first attacker took the shot directly in the mouth, causing his head to explode like a raw egg smashed against a brick wall. The next shot found another hyena in the chest, blasting its heart out in a torrent of blood and minced flesh. Instead of finding an injured and exhausted human, who couldn't fight them much longer, and two helpless cubs, the hyenas came face-to-face with an even more deadly weapon, which outstripped any advantage they had. Now, any of them that came anywhere near the human standing between them and the cubs they had been ordered to kill, were instantly blasted to bits by that deadly weapon.

Harry glared nastily at the hyenas dropping like flies before him, as he ruthlessly continued blowing them away one-by-one, "That's for Richard, you dirty sons of bitches! I suppose you enjoyed eating him alive? Well, I'll give you a taste of your own poison!" His vengeful satisfaction was cut short however as he realised the hyenas, although hesitant to attack, were stubbornly holding their ground, almost as if they knew his gun would soon or later run out of ammunition, and there was no way he could take them all.

Realising that they were not buying the bluff that the gun had infinite power, as he had hoped they would, Harry watched as their luck finally run out. With only four cartridges left, he continued struggling to keep the hyenas at bay, still greatly outnumbered and with his remaining ammunition quickly diminishing. Switching to his brother's side revolver, which he had found in the backpack, to conserve his shotgun ammunition, he continued firing. But the pistol cartridges were too small to kill on the first shot, unless it was a direct hit in the head, often requiring two or three bullets to do the job, giving the hyenas the opportunity to advance.

Just as Harry was about to accept that he was meant to lose his last battle and considering turning the pistol on the cubs and then himself, to spare them the agony of being eaten alive, the most welcoming sound filled the air, making the cave walls vibrate from the echo: the roar of a lion! Mufasa had come to their rescue!

Before they knew what was happening, the remaining hyenas, which had frozen in their tracks at the sound of the roar, suddenly found themselves pinned to the ground by the furious lion. Mufasa, his eyes glowing coals of rage, furiously tackled the murderous pack, easily swatting them like flies. Within seconds, the bruised and terrified hyenas were fleeing; several of the more bolter ones attempted to strike back, only to be brutally maimed or killed by Mufasa's gigantic paws and razor sharp teeth.

"You miserable monsters stay away from my son!" roared Mufasa as the last of the hyenas bolted from the cavern. At that moment, Zazu reappeared and landed beside the cubs, gasping in shock as he spotted the mauled Simba, dreading what his master would do when he found out. Sure enough, Mufasa, satisfied that the hyenas had gone, turned to look at the scene: his eyes trailed over Harry, in his shredded and bloodstained clothes, to Richard's skeleton on the floor, to the trembling Nala, before finally coming to rest on his son.

His furious expression instantly turned to one of utmost horror as he laid eyes on the injured Simba. Lions don't need human knowledge to comprehend the seriousness of an injury; and currently Mufasa realised his son had been badly hurt, and possibly dying. Darting forward, he tried nuzzling his son, begging him to awake.

"Simba, my son, please talk to me…" For an instant, Harry feared the cub was dead but then saw Simba's eyes open slightly, as he weakly muttered, "Dad…I am so sorry…I didn't mean to… Is Nala…?" But then his voice died away from lack of strength caused by the blood loss.

"Try not to talk," Mufasa said reassuringly, "I'll get you out of here. Conserve your strength my son!" Without another word, he picked up his semiconscious son and hurried out, anxious to get him to safety, Nala and Zazu following behind. Harry paused for a moment to pick up his brother's discarded gear – _his_ gear now – before following.

Heaving the heavy backpack, which also had Richard's gun, lantern and camera attached to it in a bundle, over his shoulders, he hurried out. Glancing over his shoulder one last time at his brother's now stripped remains, he made a mental note to come back later and give him a decent burial; assuming of course that _he_ wouldn't be needing a grave beforehand.

In a few minutes, Mufasa and the lionesses back at Pride Rock would be undoubtedly be demanding explanations about today. Zazu was unquestionably already in hot water for letting the cubs come here; he shuddered at the prospect of Mufasa holding him responsible for Simba's injury.

Although the lion king had trusted him more or less because of his connection to his old friend Richard, Harry knew his son meant more to the great lion that a stranded soldier, whom he had simply taken in as a guest until he could be rescued. That hospitality now seemed likely to be revoked before the night was over. What then?

As he followed Mufasa and the others out of the Graveyard and back into the Pride Lands, he realised that it was entirely up to _him_ to change that prospect; as a former doctor, he had an obligation to spare the injured cub from the grave. His oath never to touch medicine again because of that patient he had accidentally killed all those years ago be damned; it was time he confronted his own demons and put all his efforts into preventing another tragedy.

Author's note: My sincere apologies for the delay but I had university and work! I have already started the next chapter and should have it posted within the next couple of weeks. Also, I remind you that Harry is a former surgeon before becoming a soldier. ENJOY AND PLEASE REVIEW!


	10. Chapter 10 Prince in Peril

Night had fallen by the time Harry, Mufasa, Zazu and the cubs had returned to Pride Rock. As Harry had expected, Sarabi almost had a fit when she saw her mauled son. Sarafina, although utterly relieved that her daughter had gotten off more or less unharmed, was furious at Nala's recklessness and had taken her aside for a stern lecture. However, she had relented when she realised the ordeal her daughter had experienced and let her rest. Everyone's greatest concern however was Simba.

No sooner had Mufasa left the injured cub in its mother's care than he took Harry aside for a 'private talk.' Before he knew what was happening, a furious Mufasa had rounded on him, demanding an explanation. Although obviously not to blame, Harry was quite shocked by the king's sudden fury and at the worst possible moment in his life, found himself unable to find the words to explain, given that he had no idea what Simba had been doing there in the first place. To his utmost relief however, Zazu, followed by Nala, found that perfect moment to step in and explained to Mufasa the whole story.

According to Zazu, after Harry had left with the hunting party and Mufasa had gone on his morning rounds, Simba had gone off to find Nala and then begged his mother to let them go to some 'wonderful place', apparently close to the waterhole where Harry took his morning baths. Although suspicious, Sarabi and Sarafina had let them go but had ordered Zazu to escort them, to keep them out of trouble. However, no sooner were they clear of Pride Rock, than the cubs had given poor Zazu the slip and headed for their true destination: the Elephant Graveyard.

By the time he had caught up with them, the cubs were already beyond the point of no return and cornered by the hyenas. Zazu had unsuccessfully attempted to reason out with them but the hungry hyenas, dying for some fresh meat, had mercilessly gone for the kill. The hornbill had barely escaped with his life and had hurried back to warn Mufasa, fully aware that nothing short of a miracle could make it possible for him to get help in time. Then he had met Harry on the way and informed him of the trouble before hurrying off to alert his master. At this point, Mufasa, having heard everything he wanted to know, turned back to Harry and this time, his expression had softened.

"Is it true that you ventured into the Graveyard to _help_ them, at your own risk?" asked the mighty king, staring at Harry with astonishing gratitude. Relieved that he wasn't in hot water – not _yet_ anyway -, Harry launched into his own explanation of how he had found the cubs cornered and about to be devoured by the hyenas, and everything he had done to get them out of there alive, gesturing at all the wounds they hyenas had given him in the scuffle, as he spoke. Mufasa stared at Harry for a moment as if trying to figure out if his word was true or not. However, it didn't require much proof; Harry's shredded bloodstained uniform, which was now laced with strong hyena scent, testified to the full validity of his story.

"I believe you Harry," Mufasa said finally, "And thank you for going to my son's aid; if you hadn't, the outcome would have been far worse…" Although Harry wanted to point out that, despite his initiative, he had goofed it up big, with Simba injured and maybe dying inside the den, he thought against it since Mufasa indeed had a point; without his intervention, both cubs would have unquestionably been ripped to pieces by the hyenas. However, it was of little consolation to anyone now, given Simba's current situation.

Walking back into the den, they saw Sarabi tenderly cleaning her son's wounds. It had been nearly two hours since the attack and so far the cub had still to regain consciousness, his breathing laboured and shallow. Harry, acting on one of his old medical instincts, made a dash towards the cub, only to find his way blocked by Sarabi, who growled dangerously, as if warning him to stay away from her son. However, Mufasa stepped in, reassuring his distraught mate, who probably blamed Harry for Simba's condition.

"Let him through, Sarabi," the mighty lion commanded softly, yet Harry didn't fail to notice a slight quiver of worry in his voice, "It is only thanks to Harry that our son is still alive at all; Nala too, would have been dead if it weren't for him…"

"Dead…!" shrieked Sarabi, who had only heard that word, turning back to her son, who was being examined by Harry. With no medical instruments and only his initiative to work with, the man proceeded to examine each of the bite wounds individually; some were only superficial, but most had severed two of the three layers of muscle in the abdomen, as well as one that was down to his ribcage. Those definitely required stitches to heal properly; and unfortunately, that was the least of their problems.

Feeling the cub's forehead, he found it to be hot to the touch; there was internal bleeding, bringing the cub down with a rapidly rising fever. The external wounds he could treat with a sewing needle, some thread, and a bottle of hard liquor he had found in Richard's backpack. But the fever was another matter; since it was caused by internal haemorrhage, the best treatment would be to counteract the fever until the body healed itself. But with what?

"Wait a minute…" Harry muttered, suddenly remembering something, "Malaria… Quinine!" Opening up his brother's backpack, he started feverishly going through it, looking for the remedy all European explorers carried with them when venturing into the Dark Continent, as a precaution for the event of coming down with deadly malaria out in the bush.

There were some folded shirts and socks, a compass, a journal, a fountain pen, a pickaxe, a pair of binoculars, a box of matches, a traveller's blanket, some tobacco, a photography kit, washing kit, some hand tools, and a small cooking pot, but no quinine. Then, going through one of the side pockets, his fingers found something, which, to the touch, felt like grains of salt, caught in the lining. Their bitter odour told Harry it was indeed sulphate of quinine. Going deeper into the pocket, where the container should be however, his hand only found a tear in the pocket; the quinine container had been lost.

"Damn," Harry cursed in frustration, "Without quinine it's hopeless…" There was no point denying it; without the antipyretic, the cub's fever would continue rising and most likely lead to death from exhaustion and dehydration, over a period of a few days. However, they had to try something.

After taking a full inventory of what he had, Harry proceeded to set up a temporary infirmary in the den for Simba. Building a small fire and putting some water on to boil, he tore up a shirt to make bandages and towels, which he placed in the pot to sterilise them for his patient. Then he placed his sawing needle over the fire to kill the germs. Soon, everything was ready.

Using the bottle of liquor, he gently poured some down the cub's throat; this would act as a painkiller when he treated the wounds. Although obviously nowhere near as good as ether or chloroform, it was better than nothing. At least it should suffice to keep the cub from dying from pain shock.

Threading the now sterilised needle, he got to work stitching the cub's wounds shut; Mufasa had to restrain a hysteric Sarabi from launching at Harry, each time Simba uttered a cry of pain from the needle, screaming that the human was murdering her son. But Harry knew his business; an hour later, the cub lay sleeping peacefully, his wounds all cleaned and bandaged. His fever remained but at least he was comfortable.

Throughout the night, on Harry's instructions, they restlessly watched over the sick cub, giving him water and a spoonful of liquor mixed with tobacco leaves every few hours. Although the improvised analgesic seemed to slow down the fever somewhat, it wasn't much good in counteracting it. Sure enough, by the following morning, Simba was burning up again and soon slipped into a delirium. Despite Harry enlarging the dosages of liquor-and-tobacco-mixture, it was apparent that this way, the cub was only on borrowed time, and a most limited one at that.

"We have to go back and find that quinine or your son is doomed," he said to Mufasa, who hadn't slept all night, just like his mate, as they desperately sat watching their son's health deteriorate with every passing minute. Since coming here, Harry had taken an inventory of the local flora and fauna and knew there was nothing that could be used as a remedy for Simba's case; quinine was not native to Africa so there was no chance of finding it growing out in the plains. The same applied for willow bark and orange trees, both of which could have made fine substitutes, and there was no known source of sulphur anywhere around here. Unfortunately, this meant another trip back into the Elephant Graveyard, into the cave where he had found Richard's remains, was the only option left.

"Then that's what we'll do. I'll come with you Harry, to cover your back. Come on then, we have no time to lose…" As the pair turned to hurry out, they were stopped by Sarafina who stepped forward, "I want to come with you. Harry saved my little Nala yesterday; this way I will be able to return the favour in kind."

"Thank you Sarafina, but that won't be necessary," replied Mufasa, "The hyenas have caused us enough pain and worry as it is; it would be most foolish to give them a chance to create more victims." Although obviously disappointed, Sarafina nodded at her king's command and turned to comfort Nala, who was sobbing softly in a corner of the den, worrying for Simba's life.

Harry followed Mufasa as they hurried in the direction of the Elephant Graveyard, preying that Richard's quinine was still there somewhere. Despite of the importance of their mission, Harry, finding himself alone with the King, decided this was the best time as any to demand the full truth in privacy.

"Mufasa," he said, in a colder voice than he had intended, "What _really_ happened to Richard? What was he doing there?" To his utmost surprise, instead of confessing to some detail he had withheld from him earlier, the mighty lion turned to stare at Harry reproachfully.

"I have absolutely no idea what Richard was doing in the Elephant Graveyard, Harry; he knew that the place was dangerous and off-limits from my father. And I will thank you not to assume that I've withheld anything about this from you; the knowledge of his death hurts me as much as it does you." Realising he had let his grief take him a little too far, Harry turned back to Mufasa.

"I am sorry Mufasa; I didn't mean to imply that you had anything to do with…with his death. I just can't figure how Richard could do something so stupid if he _knew_ it meant putting his life in danger. There must have been a reason for him sneaking out there…"

"I agree," replied Mufasa with a frown, realising Harry had a point, "And I assure you, I intend to investigate the issue until we get to the bottom of this. However, I don't wish to discuss that particular subject a word further while my son's life is in danger. Look lively now!" Understanding how much the lion king must be worrying for his son's life, Harry put aside his thoughts regarding the suspicious circumstances surrounding Richard's death, and reminded himself of the current task at hand: find that quinine.

They approached the edge of the Elephant Graveyard, the misty bone yard looking as depressing and foreboding as if had on his first visit. On full alertness, they cautiously ventured down the slope into the sea of scattered skeletons, heading for the cliff where the cave was. As they hurried along, they couldn't help but notice how quiet the graveyard was; the hyenas were nowhere to be seen, save for the bodies of the dead, which, Harry noted, had been feasted upon by the rest of the clan. But there was no time to bother about them now.

Trying not to look at the cannibalised hyena carcasses, they scaled the landslide of bones, up the cliff, and into the cave. However, no sooner had they ventured down the tunnel, than a crowd of living hyenas emerged from their hiding places at the foot of the cliff, satisfied to see that their intended victims were once again back within their grasp. And this time, they were determined to make sure they wouldn't leave the Graveyard alive. Among them was also Zira, who had run up ahead to warn the hyenas of Mufasa and Harry's return, and to pass on Scar's order, this time to make sure they'd both join Richard in death, at all costs.

With her mate's minions set and ready, Zira turned and hurried away to join Scar, who was waiting for her on the edge of the Graveyard. Without another word, they both turned and left, to return to Pride Rock, before someone realised they were gone. However, in their hastiness to get away from the scene of the crime, they failed to notice another lioness approaching from the opposite direction, heading towards the Graveyard. Sarafina noticed the two retreating lions but they were too far away and moving too fast for her to see their faces.

Although caught off-guard by the sight of two strange lions – probably trespassing rogues - on the edge of the Graveyard, Sarafina quickly took her attention off of them. Despite Mufasa's order that no one else was to come, her sense of gratitude to Harry for saving Nala, combined with her daughter's distress for Simba, had made her determined to repay the favour, even if it meant disobeying her king.

Following Harry and Mufasa's trail, she hurried through the Graveyard. As she caught sight of the cliff face where the cave Harry was, she encountered a chilling sight: The entire hyena clan were silently scaling the cliff, heading for the cave entrance, where Harry and Mufasa were headed. With sickening dread, she realised the hyenas were preparing to spring an ambush. Regardless of Mufasa's strength and Harry's fighting skills and weapons, their numbers were unquestionably overwhelming for only the two of them. Breaking into a run, she rushed to her friends' aid…

Meanwhile, inside the cave, Mufasa and Harry had returned to Richard's now stripped remains, looking for the quinine. At first glance, it didn't seem like Harry had missed anything before; with the exception of the camera tripod, the broken gramophone, and the smashed champagne bottle from the explorer's last celebration party, there was nothing else to be found but the skeletal remains of the body itself.

With Mufasa keeping a sharp lookout for trouble, Harry proceeded to sweep every inch of the cave for the missing quinine. In spite of a thorough search, there was nothing to be found. Then, as he turned to examine his brother's remains again, he found a small leather pouch, which Richard had apparently been carrying in his pocket when he had died. For an instant, Harry thought they had found the quinine; but then, he realised the pouch felt strangely heavy for its size, much less for a few ounces of quinine salt.

Opening it up, a handful of tiny gleaming nuggets fell out onto his palm. Harry whistled aloud as the most beautiful-looking diamonds he had ever seen gleamed in his lantern's light. Glancing at the walls of the cave, which had been chipped, apparently by Richard's pickaxe, he saw the gleams of more of the precious stones embedded in the rock. The cave they were standing in was a priceless diamond mine.

"So this is what he died for," muttered Harry grimly, finally piecing everything together…or so he thought. Richard had lost his life in a foolish – and noble - attempt to make a fortune. Since he had invested their inheritance in his expedition with the sheer knowledge that if it turned out to be a failure, he and his brother would be giving up their family estate to the bank, to pay off their father's debts, passed on to them after his death years ago. Unfortunately, Richard's ambition to make a new fortune and a good name for himself and his brother had been for naught.

"Harry, come and look at this!" Mufasa's voice suddenly caught the man off-guard. Turning round, he saw his lion friend staring at something lying in the shadows behind some rocks close to the cave entrance. Hurrying over, he saw the king had found the skeletal remains of a second man, which Harry had overlooked earlier.

"This was Richard's Algerian porter Makeede," he said, glancing at a native bracelet amidst the scattered bones. In contrast to Richard's remains however, which were mostly still in one piece, Harry couldn't help but notice that Makeede's body had been gnawed and disassembled far more viciously, making it look almost as if the attacker hadn't been the hyenas at all. But this wasn't the time for an autopsy.

Turning his attention to a dusty haversack lying close to the skeleton, which had been Makeede's own belongings, he started going through it. Inside were several sticks of dynamite, which Harry guessed had been for Richard's mining operations here, an envelope containing a hefty sum of franks in banknotes – probably Makeede's unspent pay - some threadbare local peasant clothing, a book of Arabian scriptures, and…

"Eureka!" Harry cried as he pulled out a small sealed tin wrapped in an oilcloth, bearing the crest of a French pharmacy brand, centred in Algiers. Beneath was the English translation, which was music both to Mufasa and Harry's ears, as the soldier read it aloud, "Sulphate of quinine! We found it!"

They were just about to leave but Harry called to Mufasa to wait a moment. Turning back to Richard's remains, he took out the British flag he had found in his brother's backpack, which he had in his pocket, and covered the bones with it, improvising a burial shroud for his brother. Then, he walked over to Makeede's body and placed the latter's copy of the Koran, containing a photograph of the late Algerian boy's parents amidst it's owner's skeletal remains. Saying a few words of prayer for the two deceased explorers, he unpacked the dynamite, rigging a charge to destroy the cave, sealing up his brother and Makeede's tomb forever.

Placing the dynamite in a crack in the wall, he started unwinding the length of fuse from its reel, all the way to the mouth of the cave. Striking a match, he set the fuse alight, initiating a five-minute countdown. But as they turned to leave, they found their way blocked by non other than Banzai, flanked by his retarded sidekick Ed. The hyenas both had murderous expressions on their faces, as they stared at their two key enemies. Glancing behind them, they saw the entire hyena clan – those that hadn't been killed – closing in for the kill. Banzai gave Harry a look of pure venom.

"You miserable human murdered our matriarch and killed my brothers. You made a big mistake coming back here and bringing the _mighty_ Mufasa with you nonetheless," he snarled, also giving Mufasa a hateful glare which the king returned with a soft roar of warning, "The two of you are now going to die in a lake of your own blood, like those other two nosy intruders inside! My boss will be so pleased when we tell him you're never coming back…" Despite the trouble they were in however, neither Mufasa nor Harry showed any signs of fear.

"Stand aside and let us through at once!" growled Mufasa dangerously, "Or would you rather I'd administer further and more brutal punishment upon you for hurting my son?" Beside him, Harry drew his revolver and a machete he had found in Makeede's haversack (he had left his sword back at Pride Rock), and turned to face Banzai.

"Tell those ruffians to back off this instant or they'll be another trail of dead bodies, starting with you!" he hissed in warning, aiming Richard's pistol in Banzai's face, "You've got until the count of three to get out of our sight and then you get the first bullet for supper! One…two…"

Suddenly, without warning, a loud growling from behind them caught their attention; turning round, they saw another hyena mob approaching from the depths of the cave. It was only then that Harry realised too late that it was an ambush; in the distraction with Banzai, some of the hyenas had circled round through the opening in the back of the cave, surrounding them in a trap. Before they knew what was happening, their fight for survival had begun in earnest.

Banzai made the first move; before Harry had reached the count of three, the vengeful hyena was springing through the air, going for his throat. But Harry was faster; drawing Makeede's machete, he flashed it through the air, straight in Banzai's path… His attacker never even realised what hit him, when he found himself crumpling to the ground in death, his torso split wide open from throat to groin, his intestines spilled out beside him in a ghastly red pile. In spite of his success of killing the second-in-command of the hyena clan, Harry knew it was only just beginning.

He had hardly seen the disembowelled Banzai drop dead, when he had another hyena clinging onto his shoulders, going for his neck bone. Aiming his pistol under his arm, he fired. His howl of pain rung in Harry's ears as he felt the hyena lose its hold on him and crumple to the ground, its testicles blasted to smithereens. The hyena was howling in agony but Harry was no longer feeling merciful enough to end its misery nice and fast; this damned creature had killed his brother, almost killed Simba, and now had him and Mufasa caught in an inescapable death trap. And if they were going to die, he wouldn't give them the satisfaction of making it so easy for them.

Brandishing Makeede's machete, he continued furiously striking back, struggling to keep the menacing mob, now closing in on them from all around, from pinning him down. Beside him, he could see Mufasa putting up a similarly furious fight, clawing, biting, pounding and pummelling any of the slobbering scavengers that came his way, easily getting them in twos or threes with his superior strength. But unfortunately, the hyenas continued to advance in overwhelming numbers and both lion and man were quickly tiring out…

Suddenly, just when Harry was about to declare it had been an honour fighting alongside Mufasa and then turn his pistol on both of them, another lion's roar caught them all by surprise. A wave of relief swept over Harry when a familiar lioness suddenly burst out of the advancing mob, taking a defence position between them and the enemy. Sarafina had arrived in the nick of time. Mufasa gave the lioness a slight glare of disapproval for her disobedience, but Harry couldn't help but notice that, he too, looked utterly relieved by her arrival.

Sure enough, with the addition of Sarafina, now they were evenly matched against the outnumbering hyenas. In an instant the fight had resumed and soon the tide had been turned against the hyenas. Sarafina was the best of all, as she viciously tore the hyenas to shreds without mercy, a furious look in her eyes, "Try and kill my daughter would you? Well, here is your reward!" The hyenas were starting to retreat.

Suddenly, Harry remembered the bomb; glancing back into the cave, he saw the fuse only seconds away from detonation. Hurryingly turning to his companions, who had just finished sending the last of the maimed and defeated hyenas on their way, he shouted, "Run for it! This place is going to blow!" Ignoring their wounds and exhaustion from the battle, they turned and run for their lives.

They had barely made it to a safe distance when the dynamite went; a deep, booming vibration shook the entire graveyard as the cave exploded like a gigantic cannon. Clouds of dust, rock, bones and dismembered hyena bodies flew through the air. Then the cliff started collapsing. The entire mass above the cave disintegrated and came crushing down in a massive landslide. Those still inside the cave were either bomb-vaporized instantly or otherwise crushed by the collapsing cave, as the rock fall entombed them, along with the remains of Richard and Makeede, and the diamonds, forever.

Mufasa, Harry and Sarafina had barely made it to the edge of the Pride Lands, before the lanslide came crashing down the side of the cliff, sweeping the Graveyard as it went. Any remaining hyenas were caught in that killer tsunami of rock and earth and swept away, or otherwise buried alive beneath it, only to meet a horrible death by being crushed under its massive weight. Then it was over; the cloud of dust cleared, revealing a silent Graveyard, now overrun by a lair of rock and earth, entombing the enemy lair forever. The threat of the hyenas was no more.

As Harry and his friends turned to stare at the demolished Elephant Graveyard, something that had been sent flying by the explosion landed at their feet: it was a severed hyena head, the rest of its body having been bomb-vaporised by the blast. Harry recognised the face of Ed, his insane expression frozen in death on his face, until his head would turn to dust along with the remains of the rest of his clan.

"We saved our skins," Mufasa said grimly, licking a bite wound on his foreleg, "That was most impressive courage Harry – _both_ of you for that matter," he added hastily, seeing the hurt look on Sarafina's face, "I suppose it would be unfair to give you a scolding for following us here Sarafina when I told you not too; your disobedience saved our lives in there." The lioness smiled in gratitude at Mufasa's understanding.

"But what about what we came here for?" asked Sarafina, as the two lions suddenly remembered their Prince still remained ill and dying. Turning to Harry, Mufasa saw, with a sigh of deep disappointment, that he had lost Makeede's backpack in the escape, where the quinine had been. Now it was undoubtedly buried under the ruins of the Graveyard, lost forever, along with Simba's only hope of recovery, "What are we going to tell Simba, and _Sarabi_ for that matter?"

"How about…" Harry said, grinning at the two surprised lions, as he took something out of his back pocket, "Get well soon?" Mufasa smiled in relief as he recognised the quinine tin in Harry's hand, which the man had rescued from the destruction unnoticed. But there was no time for congratulations or praises now, for they knew Simba's lifeline was running out with every passing minute, "Let's go."

Casting one last look at the destroyed former lair of the hyenas, they turned and hurried back towards Pride Rock, hoping they weren't too late. Struggling to keep up with the swift-moving lions, careful not to drop the quinine as he hurried along, Harry couldn't help but ponder on a new mystery that had come up.

After everything he had heard Banzai say during his vengeful ranting back there, it was now apparent that the incident with Simba, as well as today's encounter, hadn't been coincidental accidents after all. On both occasions, the hyenas had known they would be coming here and had been waiting to ambush them. And from what Banzai had said, it sounded like the hyenas had had a _spy_ in the Pride Lands, monitoring their every move.

The realisation of there being a spy among them made Harry feel very uneasy. Who could it be? Maybe he would strike again, even with the hyenas dead? How long had he been working for those mongrels? Perhaps Richard had known something and was silenced for it? His mind flashed back to Scar, who had 'tipped him' off about the Graveyard the other day. Maybe he had been trying to tell him something more than just an 'innocent' clue?

Clutching the tin of quinine securely, he followed Mufasa and Sarafina back, determined to nurse Simba back to health and then, do whatever it would take to unmask that unknown hidden traitor lurking among them, before he could try and claim another life…

Author's note: My sincere apologies for the delay but I have been very busy and will continue to be so until the summer. However, I promise not to give up on the story, regardless of my slow updates. Enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW!


	11. Chapter 11 The Royal Guardian

Harry sat in the privacy of his newly renovated cave, going through his brother's journal. It had been a week since they had returned from the Elephant Graveyard with the quinine. Harry had administered the antipyretic to Simba in small doses every few hours, and, much to everyone's relief, it had done its magic. Sarabi had almost cried with joy when her son had emerged from his coma the morning after they had administered the first dose, confirming that he would live.

The cub had soon slipped out of his delirium and within a few days the fever had receded completely. Although still very weak from the bite wounds Shenzi had given him, which would take some time to heal properly, Simba was now definitely on the road to recovery. Even after the worst was over however, Harry had continued administering the medicine in smaller, less random doses, to ensure they'd be no returning of the fever, which could be fatal.

Within three days, Simba had regained full consciousness but still needed rest. As soon as he was awake, he had started fretting about Nala, but his parents had reassured him that she had made it out unharmed, while his friend tearfully nuzzled him in silent gratitude, their childish embarrassment completely forgotten. Although utterly overjoyed by his son's recovery, Mufasa had still given the ashamed Simba a stern lecture for endangering his life and Nala's, and had made them both thank Harry for coming to their rescue.

With the crisis more or less over, Harry finally found the time to take care of another personal matter: sort out his late brother's possessions salvaged from the Graveyard. In spite of his grief for Richard's death, Harry soon realised his brother's belongings were a god-sent inheritance to him in his hour of need.

Aside from the shotgun, pistol and machete, with which he could now use to hunt and defend himself, without having to rely on the lions' help to get his food, Richard's backpack contained an assortment of other useful treasures. With his newly found quadrant and compass, Harry was able to calculate his approximate location: the Pride Lands were situated on an uncharted plateau some 700 miles inland from the Mediterranean coast, south of Algiers, on the northern edge of the Hoggar Mountains. Well off the trading routes, and with nearest civilization - the M'zab Valley - some 350 miles north of his location, Harry finally realised there was no hope waiting for rescue, which would never come. But without a sextant and charts, it was impossible to accurately calculate his longitude and latitude.

Using the machete and pickaxe, he was able to clear out some loose rock and earth, enlarging his cave, and reinforcing it with some bits of timber he had cut. The kerosene lamp, cooking pot, wash kit, and traveller's blanket made his new home all the more bearable. The best part was his new wardrobe, which had once belonged to his brother. Being twins, Richard's old clothes were just his size, allowing him to replace his long-worn-out military uniform, as well as to shave and trim his grown hair.

Lying comfortably on his bed built into an elevated alcove in the cave wall, he lazily went through his brother's journal and papers, which he had been doing for the past couple of days, finally learning the whole of Richard's story after he had set off into the wilderness, hoping to find some detail that might reveal the identity the hyenas' unknown associate.

According to entries dating back to late 1912, Richard and his joint French-English geological expedition had set off into the wilderness, in search of this plateau and its legendary diamond mines. Then had followed a six-week long journey across the uncharted regions of the Sahara, using every scrap of information Richard had collected from Sir Cody's archive journals. Without specific coordinates to follow, Richard's expedition had spent days going around in circles, during which time many men had deserted or died from the hardships of the desert. Finally, with the last of their camels dead and their motor vehicles disabled from sandstorms, Richard and Makeede realised there was no hope of turning back anymore and had decided to press on.

Just before their supplies run out, they finally located the legendary plateau and made their way to the summit by scaling the cliffs following some sort of 'hidden path' all the way up, where they found the Pride Lands…and a world of talking animals. In spite of having located the plateau however, lacking the necessary supplies and equipment for the return journey, the two explorers had found themselves stranded in this strange world, and decided to make the best of it.

The diary went on with multiple entries, covering a period of many months, during which time, Richard and Makeede were the guests of King Ahadi, Mufasa's long deceased father. Like a modern Marco Polo, upon discovering these unique lions, Richard had managed to earn the trust of friendship of Ahadi, eventually becoming a ward of the pride and a royal guardian to Prince Mufasa and his stepbrother Taka…

He was so preoccupied reading of his brother's time in the Pride Lands, he didn't notice Zazu appear at his cave entrance, demanding permission to enter. Only when the hornbill flew up to him and cleared his throat in his ear did Harry snap back to reality.

"Yes, Zazu?"

"My apologies for the intrusion, but His Majesty has prepared an Honour Ceremony for you, to reward you for your heroic efforts on behalf of his young Highness. The Pride is expecting you. Promptly if you please." Putting aside the diary, Harry straightened his shirt and hair, and followed Zazu up to Pride Rock, feeling rather nervous. Despite being a soldier who could keep his cool in the face of danger, the simplest of things, like public meetings gave him cold feet even to think about them. But he knew better than to refuse, if he valued his code of honour.

The pride was all gathered in a semi-circle with Mufasa, surrounded by the rest of the royal family, standing at the head. On Zazu's direction, Harry took his place in the middle of the circle, facing Mufasa. The great king cleared his throat and began his speech.

"Captain Harry Van Owen of England," said Mufasa in his formal, commanding voice, "Since you came to my kingdom, I have reserved judgement towards you, uncertain of your trustworthiness and that of your brother's. However, after everything you did to save my son from certain death, you have proven yourself to be loyal, courageous and well worth my friendship and that of my people." Harry noticed Scar and Zira, sitting on the edge of the circle, were giving him distasteful and, in Scar's case, almost nervous looks.

"Therefore, as a reward for the great service you have done me, as well as on the personal request of my family," Mufasa went on, giving the scarred, yet excited Simba a wink, "I have decided to bestow upon you the honorary title of the Royal Guardian of the court, a title initially reserved for your late brother by my father…" The pride seemed on the verge of cheering, when Zira, her snake-like eyes glowing with fury, interrupted.

"You choose to demote your own brother over a _human_? Put another, inferior creature in line for the throne, over your own kind?" she hissed in disgust and outrage. Beside her, Scar, although silent, was also staring between Harry and Mufasa in silent anger and hatred, "So what if he saved your irresponsible son, who should have been taught better than to do something so foolish, if I may say so…!"

"Silence Zira!" shouted Mufasa with a roar of rage, furious at being spoken to with such disrespect, and in front of the rest of the pride nonetheless, "Simba has more than learned his lesson from the experience and I am sure he will be much wiser in future. Furthermore, my stepbrother is by no means demoted over Harry." Beside him, Harry saw the cub's smile fall at the mention of the Graveyard incident, shame written on his face. His mother held him close in reassurance, as Mufasa continued with his speech.

"The duties as the Royal Guardian include acting as my personal advisor, representative, as well as my son's personal protector. Also, his title puts him forth in line to the throne, _after_ Scar," he explained, emphasizing Harry's position, giving his furious brother and his mate, a stern glare. He turned back to Harry, "That is of course if Harry accepts this honour and the responsibilities that go with it. Harry, do you accept the title of the Royal Guardian?"

Harry considered for a moment; although he had no real qualms in taking up such a post, he was still not certain whether or not it would mean a life-binding contract which would force him to give up his native England, should the chance of escape ever present itself, unlikely as it seemed now. Finally, he nodded.

"Yes Mufasa, I accept. And I thank you for your faith in me. I swear I will never let you down," he said, giving Simba a wink, which the cub returned with a broad smile. The pride cheered, delighted at the newly appointed member of the pride, while Simba and Nala circled him in wild excitement. Only Scar and Zira showed no desire to join in the festivities, as they retreated to return to their den.

That evening, Harry drifted off to sleep in the main cave, on Mufasa's invitation, feeling more content than he had since before his arrival. Today, he had been officially been accepted as another member of the pride, taking over his brother's promised position; tomorrow was the beginning of a new life. Although there were still some loose ends to clear up, one of which was to find his men – if they were still alive – he couldn't help but feel pleased with this new beginning presented to him.

In the privacy of their own den, Scar and Zira sat together, contemplating their failure. Although relieved to have kept themselves out of trouble following the destruction of the Elephant Graveyard, they both knew they were not in the clear yet, not by a long shot.

Sarafina had told Mufasa and Harry about that 'strange lion' she had spotted leaving the Elephant Graveyard, fuelling everyone's suspicion that the mastermind behind the entire episode might still be at large. To Scar's utmost relief, his gullible nephew had stayed true to his promise and hadn't told anyone who had told him about the Elephant Graveyard. The secret was safe with Simba for now, but Harry was another matter.

In direct contrast to the naïve little Simba, Harry was a mature adult, and the very first to suspect there might have been foul play, after everything he had overheard from those blabbermouth hyenas, as well as from Scar's own stupidity by talking him into going out there, rather than waiting for the right moment. Now it was only a matter of time before Harry made the connection between him and Richard, which in turn would link him to the incident with Simba, and then it would be the end for both of them. To save himself and his last chance of ever assuming the throne, he would have to act…fast.

"Those mangy, good-for-nothing creatures have ruined everything!" spat Zira furiously, "I told you they were unreliable to use them as our allies, didn't I?" Scar however had his mind elsewhere, contemplating the odds, scheming.

"Zira, my dear," he asked, "Are you on the morning hunt tomorrow?"

"Yes, but I am not going," she spat, "I absolutely refuse to continue serving such a disgrace for a king, or provide for a pride that scorns us – scorns _you_ - at every turn. I have a good mind for both of us to leave the Pride Lands altogether…"

"Maybe we won't have to," said Scar in a sickly voice, "If all goes well, by this time tomorrow, my dear stepbrother, my worthless little nephew and that interfering human will be out of our lives once and for all. Now, listen carefully…"

Author's note: Coming up next, the stampede sequence, with some changes. For those who are wondering about Harry's men, they will show up later, so don't worry. Enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW!


	12. Chapter 12 Stampede And Attempted Murder

Simba excitedly followed his uncle along the bottom of a deep gorge, not too far from Pride Rock. The cub's injuries had finally healed completely and the young prince was back to his usual, adventurous self again. And so it had been that morning, after Mufasa had left on his morning rounds, that his uncle Scar had found him alone and bored (Nala was still confined to Pride Rock by her mother), and invited him on a long walk.

Since the gorge was off-limits to the cubs, unless escorted by an adult lion, Simba was delighted with his uncle's choice of destination. As they walked along, Simba kept telling his uncle the story of the Graveyard incident and how Harry had saved his life and Nala's, and how he had given the hyenas their comeuppance in the process.

Surprisingly enough, the usually bored Scar was more than keen to listen to his nephew's story, as well as asking many questions of his own, including how Harry had managed to defeat an entire hyena clan single-handedly. Little did the cub realise that his evil uncle had only taken him out of earshot, to question him in private about Harry's strengths, making sure there were no more loose ends he may have overlooked, with the intention of luring the cub into another death trap immediately thereafter…

Not too far away, Zira was supposedly on her daily hunt. As it was customary on every hunt, the lionesses would split up into small groups, each assigned to a different edge of the Pride Lands, with the exception of Zira, who always hunted alone. Therefore, nobody had the faintest awareness that today she wasn't on a hunt at all, but on a _murder mission_.

She and her mate had spent most of last night strategizing and rehearsing their new plan: On Scar's instructions, Zira would follow her usual routine and supposedly go about her hunting; only when she found the most convenient herd nearest to the edge of the gorge where Simba, she would chase it down through the canyon route; this in turn would find the cub in the middle of an inescapable death trap, in the form of a stampede, while Scar and Zira would slip away, each to take care of another victim: Scar would take care of his step-brother - who was expected to come to his son's rescue – while Zira would return to Pride Rock to lure Harry to the gorge - supposedly on Mufasa's request - where she and Scar would finish him off as well. All this would be done away from any prying eyes, so nobody would realise the betrayal, leaving Scar as the next surviving heir to rightfully assume the throne, with Zira as his queen.

Meanwhile, back at Pride Rock, Harry had set up a small darkroom in his cave by covering up the entrance hole with his blanket; his brother's photography kit lay set up on the table, beside Richard's dismantled camera, its salvaged photographic plates awaiting exposure.

In spite of Simba's recovery – for which the pride were still singing his praises - and his own promotion to Royal Guardian, Harry still felt uneasy of his suspicion that there might still be some traitor among the pride, who had been aiding the hyenas, one they had chosen to overlook, and whom might strike again at the first given opportunity. And so, no sooner were the festivities over than he had renewed his efforts to sniffing out this mole.

His brother's journal had told him nothing; just the story of Richard's perilous journey to the plateau, followed by his time with Ahadi's pride, ending abruptly with an entry dating on the day he had disappeared, with a postscript that he and Makeede would be going to inspect the caves in the Elephant Graveyard for diamond deposits, which some unanimous member of the pride had discreetly told him existed there. Having hit a dead end there, Harry had turned his attention to the contents of Richard's camera.

Although he had found the camera itself to be damaged beyond repair (the lenses were shattered), most of the photographic plates inside it were still intact and could be developed. Although he had no photographic paper or printer, the glass plates alone could be run through the baths, exposing the shots in their rough form. With his lantern surrounded by a red glass cover, to filter the light, Harry got to work.

Picking up the first plate, he placed it in the start bath, carefully counting off the seconds on his watch. The chemical mixture started reacting with the unexposed plate, causing the picture to slowly appear on the blank glass surface. Placing the plate in the stop bath for the final process of the development, the image finally took shape. Although in greyscale and a mere transparent pattern of shadows, Harry recognised a picture of his brother standing at the foot of Pride Rock, beside a majestic lion, which he figured had to be King Ahadi, and cradling a cub in his arms, which Harry recognised as a child Mufasa.

Similar images revealed themselves over the next several plates that came out of the baths; finally, Harry was down to his last one. Gently picking up the final plate, which was cracked lengthwise from when the camera had been knocked over, he placed it in the bath. The image that materialised a moment later, nearly took his breath away.

This picture, blurred and out of focus, in direct contrast to the rest of the shots, was taken in no other place than the Elephant Graveyard, in the very cave where they had found Richard's remains. With a gasp, Harry realised he had found an accidental snapshot of his brother's demise.

Carefully examining the lopsided picture, he slowly made out a crowd of hyenas – including the leading trio – mauling Richard, who was lying struggling in vain on the cave floor. And there was more; glancing in the background, Harry noticed a spectator on the ledge above, who wasn't one of the hyenas. Despite the blurriness and dark shade of the shot, Harry quickly recognised a young lion – apparently the mastermind behind the crime – enjoying the sight of Richard being torn to pieces. The figure was dark-manned and rather skinny…

"No…" Harry whispered in shock, as he studied the figure's face under the magnifying glass he had fashioned out of the glass covers of his watch covers months ago, "No, it can't be _him_… But yes, it _is_ him! Oh my God…!"

Harry felt about to be sick as he finally identified the _true_ mastermind behind his brother's murder; the figure, whose picture at the scene of the crime had been taken entirely by accident and overlooked, was non other than…Scar! In an instant, the last piece of the puzzle that had been eluding Harry all these months finally clicked into place: _Scar was the traitor_!

It all made perfect sense: Scar, furious at the prospect of never becoming king, was after the throne of the Pride Lands through his murderous schemes. All these incidents – Richard's mysterious murder, with Scar blaming Mufasa for it, Simba's near-death in the Elephant Graveyard, with those hyenas apparently acting on someone else's orders, and Scar's general hatred of his step-brother, his nephew, as well as Harry – all had one simple connection.

Richard's murder had been a blotched-up attempt by Scar to discredit Mufasa as the heir to the throne; instead Ahadi had come to the conclusion that Richard was the guilty one, putting Scar back to where he had started, yet leaving him fearful of the prospect of his plot being revealed someday. Then, when Harry had come, Scar had immediately seen him as a threat because of his connection to Richard, fuelling his hatred of him.

The incident with Simba almost getting killed was undoubtedly another failed murder attempt, which would have put Scar first in line to the throne, leaving Mufasa as the only obstacle to be eliminated. Harry himself undoubtedly was supposed to have been killed in that conflict, explaining why the sly lion had coaxed him into going there; only he had fortunately underestimated his abilities to defend himself in the face of danger.

As the horrible truth dawned on him, Harry was suddenly struck with another alarming realisation: if Scar was the one behind all this trouble all along, then it was only a matter of time before he decided to strike again; there was way too much heat for him to back off anymore. Doing some quick thinking, Harry remembered Simba was out on a long walk with Scar; and Mufasa was out alone on his morning rounds…

"Oh my God," whispered Harry in alarm, "The opportunity is too perfect to miss; he is going to strike again _today_! I've got to warn the others now!" Still clutching the plate, he picked up his revolver and machete and hurried out, making his way up to Pride Rock.

Most of the lionesses had returned from the hunt by now and resting on the shade outside the royal den, waiting for their master to return for the meal, before it was their turn to eat. Glancing around, he spotted Sarabi and Sarafina snoozing on a ledge nearby, and rushed over to them. Before he could get there however, he was intercepted by Zira, who came running from the plains, out of breath and seemingly alarmed.

"You've got to come at once," she panted, her normally sinister face wearing an expression of utmost worry and alarm – or so Harry thought. "The young Prince is in trouble, down in the gorge…!"

_Bloody hell, he's done it already…!_ thought Harry urgently, feeling his blood curdle, the possibility of Zira also being in on it and setting him up – which she was - not crossing his mind in that moment of panic.

"All right, let's get Mufasa and the rest of the Pride…" he said, about to turn round and sound the alarm, but Zira stopped him, "There is no time; you go on ahead and I'll alert His Majesties. Well, what are you waiting for? Hurry!" In an instant, Harry was tearing across the plains, away from Pride Rock, heading towards the gorge, unaware that he was heading for greater trouble than he expected…

Her job complete, Zira turned to rejoin the rest of the pride, as if nothing was wrong, to make sure her mate's plan was well under wraps and that no one would go to interrupt Scar as he fulfilled his plan. As she passed Sarabi, who had noticed her talking to Harry, but too far away to hear what had been said, the Queen stopped her.

"What was all that about, Zira? Is something wrong?" asked the majestic lioness, who hadn't failed to notice the sense of urgency on Zira's face when she had spoken to Harry.

"Nothing to concern yourself with, you Majesty," she replied in the most polite tone Sarabi had ever heard her use before, "His Majesty just sent me to summon the Royal Guardian on a little…errand." Although she didn't think herself the wisest lioness in the world, Sarabi was not stupid; and Zira's sudden change of attitude greatly unnerved her.

"And what about Simba? Where is he?"

"Nothing to worry about my Queen," Zira explained in a sickly sweet voice of false respect, "His young Highness is under the caring watch of Scar; they should be back shortly. Please excuse me…" But Sarabi, now very suspicious of Zira's peculiar attitude, stopped her.

"Go find them and tell Scar I want my son back here at once for his meal. We'll be eating soon." Although feeling rather apprehensive at being ordered around, Zira managed to keep a straight face, as she bowed respectfully.

"As you command Your Majesty," she replied casually, _Who won't be Queen for much longer…_ she added to herself as she hurried away, to 'carry out' the order. Although Sarabi's suspicion has caught her off-guard, it didn't hinder the plan in any way, as long as there were no witnesses. In fact, this was the perfect opportunity to make sure her mate had his back covered, while they both finally claimed what was rightfully theirs…

Meanwhile, as a result of Scar and Zira's fiendish scheme, Simba had found himself alone, trapped in a new nightmare. After reaching the bottom of the gorge, his uncle had left him for a while, to go get his father, whom he said had a 'marvellous surprise' for him.

However, no sooner had Scar vanished, than the cub was caught off-guard by a herd of panicked wildebeest coming down the edge of the canyon, fleeing from some unseen assailant. But that was the least of the young prince's worries, for the swarm of wildebeest running along the bottom of the gorge had instantly become a deadly stampede…with him caught right in its path!

With the inscalable cliffs of the gorge on either side, and with no chance of outrunning the swift-moving, mad wildebeest, their deadly hooves about to trample him into mincemeat, the terrified cub had barely managed to reach the only place of retreat in the midst of this inescapable death trap: the top of a withered tree growing in the centre of the gorge, which was quickly yielding to the force of the wildebeests brushing against it in their path.

"Help! Somebody help me!" the poor cub cried out desperately, staring in vain at the deserted cliffs above, hoping someone would hear him. Where was his Uncle Scar? Had he seen the stampede and gone to get help? Would his father or Harry make it here in time? The prospect of dying such a horrible death, combined with the thought of how much it would break his parents' hearts, caused him to shudder, as he continued to cling on for dear life, hoping for a seemingly non-existent miracle to save him from the inevitable…

Meanwhile, the oblivious Mufasa was focusing on his daily rounds, inspecting the herds of his kingdom, or patrolling the borders for enemies, unaware of what was going on not too far away. Zazu, as per his custom, was escorting his master, flying up ahead and reporting back. Suddenly, the king was caught by surprise as his major-domo came flying up to him, looking scared half to death.

"By the Great Kings of the Past, what's the matter with you?"

"Sire, you've got to come! I've just received an alert from Scar; there's a stampede going on down in the gorge and his young Highness is trapped down there!" Mufasa felt the blood drain from his face; he had warned Simba to stay clear of that place unless he had an escort. So what was he doing down there alone? However, this was not the right moment to dwell on his son's apparent disobedience.

Ordering Zazu to fly back to Pride Rock for reinforcements, Mufasa turned and hurried towards the gorge, to his son's rescue. Unbeknownst to him, Scar was also following close behind, intent on making sure neither the King nor the Prince - or Harry for that matter -, made it out of that death trap alive. An evil smirk of satisfaction crossed the sinister lion's face; things were definitely in his favour for a change. The failure of his hyena minions would soon be rendered moot…

His lungs on fire, Harry finally reached the edge of the gorge, only to lay his eyes on a scene of absolute chaos; below, was a sea of panicked wildebeest running, apparently fleeing from some unknown assailant. But that didn't interest him at the moment, as he scanned the gorge floor for any signs of Simba. He paled; anyone down there was unquestionably dead meat… Perhaps it was already too late? Maybe the cub had been crushed to pieces beneath those thousands of trampling hooves? Then, he suddenly he heard it; the terrified cries of a familiar voice, muffled by all the loud trampling, coming from the top of a tree right in the middle of the stampede.

"Help! Harry, over here!" Taking out his brother's binoculars from his utility belt, Harry saw Simba clinging to the top of the withered tree, which was quickly yielding to the wildebeests' blows and seemed likely to give way at any second. The cub was screaming for help, the sight of Harry having given him a tiny ray of hope, "Hurry, I can't hold on!"

Although courageous, Harry was no fool; even if he could make it down to the bottom of the gorge in time, how the hell would he get across that torrent of murderous wildebeests to the cub, without getting killed before he got five steps? At that moment, he was joined by Mufasa, who had somehow also been alerted of the emergency.

Without wasting time exchanging words, the two of them hurried down the ledges on the side of the gorge, making their way down to the bottom. Harry felt a tremendous sense of awe as he saw the majestic lion leap straight into the murderous herd, to save his son, ignoring the blows and trampling the panicked wildebeests gave him with every stride.

Harry just stood there, like an idiot, unsure of how to help out; his military training, as well as his survival instincts, kept telling him it was suicide trying to wade through that stampede and that he could only wait and hope Mufasa could pull this off. But no, he had to do something to help them! But what?

Staring back at the tree, he saw it crack as another wildebeest hit it head on; for an instant, he thought the cub was done for but the branch held, supported by only a few fibbers of splintered wood. Meanwhile, he could see Mufasa wasn't doing too well either; although his superior size and strength kept him from being instantly trampled to death, the overwhelming number of attacking wildebeests kept knocking him down every few steps, making him too slow in reaching his son, let alone making it back himself in one piece.

Seeing his only chance, Harry drew his revolver; although the handgun cartridges weren't as good as those of his shotgun, it was better than nothing. This just might work in thinning out that mob a little, even just for a moment…

The first two shots missed or only caused superficial injuries to their targets as the injured wildebeests kept running. The third one finally found its mark in the head of another wildebeest, killing it instantly. The large carcass collapsed to the ground, straight in the path of the other wildebeests following right behind. Like a domino effect, several of the panicked creatures tripped and fell, creating a temporary barrier, causing the stampede to thin out somewhat. Sure enough, he saw Mufasa get to his feet again and barely managed to retrieve Simba, before the blow of another wildebeest finally flattened the tree.

Shooting another wildebeest, to create another barrier for them to make it to the side, Mufasa emerged on the edge of the ledge, carrying his terrified son in his mouth. Harry took the cub as Mufasa passed Simba to him, cringing as he felt the cub's heart pounding hard as a vibrating alarm clock. He was just about to give Mufasa a hand up as well, when their good luck finally run out.

It happened in the blink of an eye; Harry's hand was an inch away from grabbing hold of Mufasa and pulling him to safety when another wildebeest running along the wall, intercepted him, sweeping him off the ledge and back into the stampede. Harry had to restrain Simba from darting back into the gorge after his father.

"Dad, no…!"

"Don't lad! You can't help him…!" Harry barked, holding the cub back, his eyes scanning the stampede for any signs of Mufasa. He couldn't risk firing his weapon again, not when he knew the king was pinned beneath those hooves and might intercept his bullet instead… Then, suddenly, he saw, with a gasp of amazement, Mufasa leap into the air and latch himself onto the side of the cliff wall. But they couldn't reach him from there and could only watch as the great lion struggled tooth and claw to make his way up the completely vertical wall, looking as if he was about to fall any second now.

Exchanging worried glances, both human and cub turned and hurryingly made their way up the path of ledges, hoping to intercept Mufasa further up - assuming that they could get up there in time. Unfortunately, neither of them realised that there were already two unseen figures prowling along the top of the cliff, intent on making sure nobody walked out of there alive…

After watching his stepbrother and Harry hurry down into the gorge to the rescue, Scar had remained up top and out of sight, watching everything carefully, waiting for the right moment to make his move. At first, he had hoped that the stampede would at least claim the life of the cub, leaving a devastated- and possibly gravely injured – Mufasa and Harry to emerge, right into his waiting grasp.

To his utmost dismay, he watched as the human used more of his tricks to thin out the stampede, allowing his stepbrother to safely retrieve his nephew from the death trap. But then, almost as if fate had finally decided to grant him the last laugh, he saw Mufasa being swept back into the stampede, seemingly to his death, only to manage to leap clear at the last minute, desperately scrambling up the cliffs to safety…or so he thought.

Not missing the opportunity, Scar cast a quick glance around, to ensure there were no witnesses, and sprang into action. Positioning himself on the edge of the cliff, he waited until his brother had almost made it to the top before looming into view right above the slipping lion. Mufasa looked up, an expression of relief sweeping his face.

"Scar, oh thank the Great Kings! Brother, help me! Hurry, I am slipping…! W…what are you doing?" Instead of leaping forward to help him, Scar's face was calm and unconcerned, as he lazily watched Mufasa struggling to maintain his grip on the crumbling rock, his claws about to be torn clean from his paws. Without warning, the evil lion suddenly struck; lunging forward, he dug his unsheathed claws into Mufasa's paws, like scalpels about to dissect a pair of live toads. His face curled into a sinister sneer, as he looked into his helpless stepbrother's eyes, a sense of satisfaction, the likes of which he had never felt before, building up inside him, as he finally vented his lifelong hate and jealousy onto his soon-to-be victim.

"How does it feel Mufasa?" he taunted him, "All your life, I always come second best to you; but now you are about to die by my own paw. Such irony; you always thought I knew my place and would never dare challenge you. Well, think again!"

"W…why are you doing this?" asked Mufasa, his heart filled with pain and disappointment at the realisation of his brother's betrayal, and even more fear – not so much for his own life as at the prospect of his son about to be left at the mercy of this traitor's brainwashing, perhaps even his wrath; maybe he would kill him too, or otherwise use some vile lies to turn the rest of the pride against him by pinning the blame for his death onto him. As if reading his mind, Scar' evil expression turned hungry, seemingly eager for more blood.

"Let's just say that I am sick and tired of being the pride's hanger-on; the adopted brother, who will never account to anything, ever. No Mufasa; once you and your brat of a son are dead, my rule begins. A pity about Harry though; the nosing fool will also die in disgrace, with everyone thinking _he_ was the killer. Followed in his brother's footsteps of greed, as it will be known. So, long live the king…!"

"Long live the king indeed, traitor. Now, don't move!"

Scar felt his stomach bottom out as he slowly turned to see a furious Harry standing on the rock above, aiming his revolver at him, his eyes narrowed slits of fury, confirming he had overheard everything. He cursed, realising that while he had been wasting time taunting Mufasa, he had completely forgotten that Harry was still on the loose. And now, because of that stupid mistake, he was caught in the act, trying to murder the king! This time, he wasn't worming his way out of trouble that easily…

**Author's note:** Sorry about the delay, but I have been very busy with my new job, as well as battling writer's block. The next chapter won't be long coming, so keep a sharp lookout. Until next time then! Enjoy and please review!


	13. Chapter 13 Guilt and Running Away

Scar stood petrified, staring back at Harry brandishing his gun at him, with Mufasa clinging on for dear life off the edge of the cliff, the would-be murderer's claws still driven into his brother's bloodied paws in an attempt to send him plummeting to his death below. He had only been one step away from fulfilling his ultimate dream but now, without warning, everything was ruined. Sure enough, the human continued to advance, gun in hand, Harry's eyes narrowed to slits of cold fury.

"Back away Scar. Do it, now! I am warning you…" barked the soldier dangerously, his weapon aimed directly in the traitor's face. Although Scar could tell Harry had probably overheard everything, he couldn't just give up now; he had to try and keep him talking, distract him, keep the standoff going long enough for Zira to come to his aid. He struggled to force an innocent smile.

"Take it easy Harry. I am just helping my brother…" Mufasa was about to yell at his friend that his stepbrother had betrayed them and meant to kill him, but Harry's reply caught them both by surprise.

"I am sure you are Scar," he replied coldly, "Like when you lured Simba and me to that bone yard, for your minions to make short work of us without anyone knowing, just like you did with Richard all those years ago…" Scar paled, realising he was in far deeper trouble than simply being caught red-handed in a murder attempt; Harry had someone unravelled the whole mystery and had come to confront him directly. He tried to say something but couldn't find the words that had deserted him.

"And you better believe when I tell you, I will put a bullet through your skull if you don't back off this instant!" Scar considered his options; with his plan ruined, half of him was urging to go ahead and throw Mufasa to his death and enjoy the last laugh, while the other half was telling him to make a break for it while he still could, and hope to finish the job some other day.

He was just about to give up and try and run, when the tables suddenly turned in the favour of the evil side once again; with a roar, Harry was suddenly tackled by a deranged Zira who had snuck up on him from the rocks, while he had been busy threatening the traitor. Caught by surprise, the brave soldier lost his footing and staggered; the revolver still clutched in his hand went off, the bullet flying straight towards…Mufasa!

With a roar of pain, the lion king was struck on the shoulder; his paws slipped out of Scar's grip and he plummeted to the bottom, his limp body smashing against the jagged rocks protruding from the side of the cliff as he went. Harry had only a second to realise what he had done before Zira had him pinned down, knocking the gun out of his hand and off the edge of the cliff, beyond his reach. The last thing he saw was the triumphant smirk in the mad lioness's sinister eyes, before her giant paw struck him hard across the face, and then everything went black…

Meanwhile, Simba had made it partway up, struggling with the high ledges. Still shaking from his latest brush with death, the cub was reflecting on how many times he now owed Harry his life, and the trouble he seemed to bring upon himself and those around him, when he heard a familiar sound: a gunshot!

Staring up, he saw something that chilled him to the bones: his father, bloodied and battered from the stampede, lose his grip on the edge of the cliff and plummet back into the depths of the gorge, his broken body bashing against the side of the cliff on the way down, leaving smears of blood in his wake, the resounding thuds combined with the cracking sounds of breaking bones not missing the cub's sensitive ears.

"NO!"

Before he knew what was happening, his father had vanished in the midst of the stampede, his last cries dying away. Simba felt as if he was about to be sick, as his entire world seemed to fall apart all around him in an instant. Forcibly pulling himself together, he darted back down the gorge to help his father, praying it wasn't too late…

Meanwhile, back on the top of the cliff, Scar stared triumphantly down the gorge, into the cloud of dust caused by the stampede where his brother had disappeared. Nursing his bloodied paw, which was now missing a claw, torn from its socket when Mufasa had slipped from his grasp, the sweet feeling of triumph swept over him. It was done; his stepbrother was dead and gone, leaving the path to the throne wide open. Only a couple more loose ends to clear up and the Pride Lands were all his…

Beside him, Zira was circling Harry's unconscious form, like a snake about to devour a rather juicy rat; although she had refrained from killing the man once she had him out cold, eager to watch the demise of Mufasa alongside her mate first, now her lust for her own share of bloodshed in this scheme was kicking in.

"It couldn't have planned this better myself," she said in her sinisterly sweet voice, "Triumph is ours my love; that fool Mufasa is finally out of the way and good riddance to him. Now all we need to do is dispose of the charming Royal Guardian and that brat of his, and then our rule begins…" She bent over Harry, barring her teeth, preparing for the kill.

"You have been a thorn in my side long enough human," she sneered, her eyes glowing red orbs of death, "Such a pity; you could have been such a valuable asset in the servitude of the new king. Oh well, I always wondered what human blood tasted like…" She was just about to grab Harry by the throat and finish him off too, when Scar, influenced by his mate's words, stopped her.

"Wait… Let's not be so hasty. After all, technically _we_ didn't kill Mufasa; _he_ did our work for us. And I ask you, what is the fate of a traitor, convicted of murdering the king and prince?" The wheels in Zira's head seemed to spin as she realised the advantage of using Harry as a scapegoat to divert any suspicions away from them.

"Have him answer for his 'betrayal'? Why, that would be so…fitting," she hissed, "The king and prince betrayed and murdered by the Royal Guardian out to steal the throne, but the lone and suppressed hanger-on of the family exposes the enemy at the last moment, and, ever so humbly, assumes the throne in honour of his poor brother's memory… Why, it's just perfect! Your rule would be firmly solidified…"

"_Our_ rule, my beautiful Zira," said Scar, nuzzling her with sickening delight, "You've played your part well. But first…" he said, his eyes turning murderous again, "the cub…" Leaving Harry bleeding and unconscious on the edge of the cliff, the pair hurried away to find Simba and dispose of him too. Once the naïve cub was dealt with, the Pride Lands would be greeting the dawn of a glorious new era…

Slipping and tripping, Simba scurried back down to the bottom of the gorge, just as the last of the wildebeests passed and the stampede ended, leaving a scene of total destruction: broken earth, ruined vegetation, as well as several lifeless wildebeest carcasses, trampled to death by their own kind, could be seen through the suffocating clouds of disturbed dust still blowing in the breeze. The cub's eyes scanned the scene, coming to rest on one particular limp form lying at the foot of the cliff: the lifeless, mangled body of a lion, which, until a moment ago, had been his father and the King of the Pride Lands.

Simba stood petrified with horror. There was no need to go over and check; the sight of the bloodied and broken body, lying twisted and unmoving amidst the ruins left behind by the tragedy that had claimed his father's life, told him everything he needed to know. His father was dead.

Shame and despair struck all at once; it was his entire fault that his father had been killed. Because of his stupidity in going traipsing around in dangerous places and getting himself in trouble, others were forced to risk themselves to save his ungrateful neck. And now his recklessness had finally caught up with him; and his father had been the one forced to pay the price.

On the brink of insanity, chocking on his own tears of shame and self-hatred, the distraught cub run around madly, screaming in vain for help which wasn't there. He wanted to run back to his mother, confess what he had done, beg forgiveness… But no, he couldn't do it. The very thought of what his mother – what the whole Pride - would think of him now, pained his already broken heart even more. There was only one way out of this nightmare: _to run_. To run away and never return, put the past, which would haunt him for the rest of his miserable life, no matter where he turned, as far behind him as possible.

Casting one final glance at his father's body, muttering an apology filled with regret and remorse, the Prince of the Pride Lands turned and fled, tearing across the savannah, towards the edge of the desert, on the trail to his self-inflicted exile. Whether he made it somewhere and started anew, or simply perished from hunger and thirst out there, he didn't know, nor did he care. All he cared about was getting as far away from here as possible, away from his life and home where he no longer belonged, not a worthless, wretched murderer like him.

Without realising it, this move ironically saved his life from his evil uncle and his mate, who had been watching from the shadows, Zira preparing to pounce and put the cub out of its misery for good…

Scar and Zira watched in satisfaction as Simba fled in remorse towards the border, vanishing into the desert. Zira sneered evilly, "That's right, run you worthless little brat; run, like the coward you are, run as far as you can get…" She was about to give chase and finish the cub off on the edge of the border, where no one would find any evidence of the crime, but Scar held her back.

"No, just let him go; he's as good as dead out there anyway. Let him have his fighting chance; after all, I'd hate to have my dear nephew's blood on my paws. He was always a little too flattering, the dumb, trusting little fool…" At that moment, Zazu's voice rung out from the sky above, as the major-domo came into view, alerted by the gunshot, looking for his master. Spotting Scar and Zira, he flew down at them, landing before them.

"What in the name of the Great Kings happened, Scar? Where is his Majesty? His young Highness…?" Turning to look in the direction where Scar was staring, he spotted his master's broken corpse. He gasped in horror, "Oh, no…"

"Poor Mufasa put too much faith in those unworthy of his friendship, Zazu," said Scar, lowering his head in false grief, Zira wisely following his lead, "It appears our new Royal Guardian has been playing us false all along, to satisfy his own evil ambitions. Zira and I saw him kill Mufasa in cold blood with our own eyes! If only we had realised his treachery sooner…" Zazu looked shocked.

"Harry had turned traitor to us?" he gasped in disbelief, "But how could he do this, not after everything His Majesty has done for him…?"

"Betrayal can come in many masks," said Scar coldly, trying to hide his satisfaction of Zazu being the first to buy his story, "But this is not the time to appear weak Zazu. I want you to fly back to Pride Rock at once, and sound the alarm. Order everyone on alert; if you spot the traitor, detain him, dead or alive! Zira and I will be along shortly to discuss his punishment. Well, get to it, you idle, banana-beaked fool!"

As Zazu flew off to deliver the shocking news to Pride Rock, Scar approached his stepbrother's dead body, smirking in sickening satisfaction at his latest victim, whose paw prints he'd soon be stepping into.

"So long Mufasa," he sneered, "Do send my regards to Father; ask him to say again what a disappointment I always was to him and Mother, a waste of a lion who could never hope to account for anything…" To his horror, he thought he saw his brother's lifeless eyes, still open in death, blink, but then shrugged it off, dismissing it as a fragment of his imagination, a result of nervousness one usually encountered following a cold-blooded killing like this one. Turning, he hurried away, Zira in tow…

Still in shock from the news of his master's death and that of the prince, Zazu tore through the sky, hurrying to report the bad news to the lionesses. One moment, everything had been going well with the Pride; now, the future of the Pride Lands hung in the balance, a good king's reign and the life of a promising heir having been drawn to an unexpected and violent close in one day, all because of one unlikely traitor…

Captain Harry Van Owen… A valiant soldier, slayer of the hyena clan, a hero and trusted friend to the royal family, had turned traitor? Who could have foreseen such a development? And why would he do such a thing? Surely Scar wasn't exaggerating…? Zazu struggled to pull himself together, reminding himself that with Mufasa and Simba dead, dark times now lay ahead for the Pride and they would all need to stay strong, if they were going to pull through…somehow… Especially Sarabi, who had just lost everything… The future seemed so bleak now…

After what seemed like forever, Harry felt himself return to consciousness; his head was aching like it were on fire, his world spinning all around him, his memory a complete blank. Slowly, it all came back to him; the stampede, Simba, Scar about to kill Mufasa, attempting to stop the assassination, only for it to backfire when Scar's accessory tackled him…

_Zira!_

So that bitch was also in on this! He should have known Scar couldn't possibly have orchestrated such an elaborate double-murder on his own. The memory of Mufasa being struck by his own misfired bullet resurfaced in his mind; glancing over the edge of the gorge, he could clearly make out the bloodied body lying in a pool of his own blood at the foot of the cliff.

_No… No, no, no, no…!_

Ignoring the headache and possible concussion settling in, Harry tore back down the rocky slope, to the bottom of the gorge. Maybe it wasn't too late to help him. Some climbers were known to have survived falls from seemingly impossible heights by cartwheeling down the side of gullies, encountering obstacles that had slowed their deadly fall; hell, he himself had survived a similar fall from a balloon not so long ago, on the day of his arrival, without even breaking a single bone… No, Mufasa couldn't have died…

Hurrying down, he dashed across the bottom of the gorge, towards the fallen lion. Unlike Simba and Scar, who had diagnosed him as dead at first glance and from afar, Harry pulled himself together and began a methodical and professional diagnosis. His heart soared as he felt for a pulse and found one; weak and irregular but there nonetheless. Sure enough, as if sensing his presence, Mufasa weakly opened his eyes, confirming he was still alive…but only for a while longer.

"Harry…"

"Try not to talk Mufasa," said Harry encouragingly, patting Mufasa down, assessing his injuries, "I'll get you out of here…"

The bullet wound on the lion's shoulder was thankfully only marginal; but that was of little concern as Harry found a ghastly deformity between the lion's shoulder blades, where he had struck a protruding rock in his fall. With cold dread, Harry realised his friend and mentor had shattered his spinal column at the base of the neck, leaving him completely paralysed from the shoulders down, in addition to severe internal haemorrhage caused by ruptured organs, which would soon cause him to go into shock. To make matters worse, with the chest muscles paralysed, the lion's lungs were filling with fluid and, without an iron lung to help him breathe, deadly pulmonary oedema would settle in soon. When it came to medicine, Harry was never optimistic; Mufasa was in a bad way with little or no hope of survival, let alone recovery. But he couldn't just leave him here, not while he knew he was still alive.

_What am I doing? He's broken every bone in his body. He can't even breathe on his own_, he thought, struggling to come to terms with the bitter fact that Mufasa couldn't be helped now. As if reading his mind, the dying lion gestured him closer, muttering into his ear with what little strength he had left.

"You have to go Harry," he muttered, struggling to breathe, "You have to find my son before it's too late…"

"Don't talk like that pal, I am not leaving you here to die. I can make a stretcher and get you back to Pride Rock. Just stay with me…" He turned to look for any stout branches he could use to improvise a makeshift stretcher with, but Mufasa stopped him.

"Harry, I am dying. But my son still needs you, now more than ever. He's out there all alone and in grave danger of Scar…"

"Where is Simba, Mufasa? What happened to him?" Harry asked, suddenly realising that the cub was nowhere to be seen. Had Scar and Zira got him too? "If those two bastards have hurt him, I'll kill them myself…!"

"My son has fled, Harry," Mufasa mouthed grimly, slowly beginning to slip away, "He thinks he killed me; another of my treacherous brother's fiendish games. You have to find him, bring him back, raise him to become the lion I wanted him to be…"

"Simba thinks _he_ did this to you? But the fault is _mine_ Mufasa," Harry replied, amazed that the lion king still hadn't lost faith in him, even after he had – unintentionally of course -, fired the bullet that had done Scar's dirty work for him, sealed Mufasa's doom. The majestic lion only smiled reassuringly.

"You are not to blame for my fate Harry. You did your best to save me; regardless of what the Pride thinks after being brainwashed by more of my wicked stepbrother's lies, the fault lies with him and my own blindness in seeing through his untrustworthiness in good time…" muttered the fallen king, an expression of regret crossing his suffering face. But the last of his strength had finally left him and his face twisted with pain. He was going. With his last breath he gasped.

"Farewell my dear friend. Don't forget your duty as Royal Guardian towards my Pride – _your_ Pride -, towards my son and towards the kingdom you now rule, until my son comes of age to assume the throne. I'll give Richard your regards… May the Great Kings of the Past guide you all the way…" Then his eyes rolled back in death, his head lying limp in Harry's arms. Mufasa, son of the great Ahadi, King of the Pride Lands, had departed from this world, having fulfilled his role in the Circle of Life, on his way to join his noble ancestors alongside the other Great Kings of the Past in the heavens.

Harry stood petrified, holding back tears; even his tough military discipline wasn't enough to mask his sadness and grief. Mufasa had been the one who had helped him locate his missing brother, helped him make peace with his past, as well as given him a promising future here. Now, because of his failure to unmask those traitors before they could strike, Mufasa and Richard had died; Simba was probably dead too if they had caught up with him. But they wouldn't have died in vein.

In the midst of his grief, a new emotion overcame Harry: vengeful anger. These deaths would be avenged; Scar and Zira would be dealt with in the harshest manner possible. And he would be the one to see to it that justice was done.

Looking around, he found his revolver in the dirt, where he had dropped it when Zira had tackled him up on the cliff. Finding it undamaged from the fall, he loaded every spare round he had left into the magazine and undid the safety catch. Weapon in hand, he turned and hurried away, making his way back to Pride Rock, intent on confronting Scar and the rest of the Pride with the truth, unaware that his foe was planning a similar reception, on account of _him_ being the guilty party…

**Author's note:** My sincere apologies for the delay but I was battling writer's block, among other problems. I promise the chapter won't be so long coming. ENJOY AND PLEASE REVIEW!


	14. Chapter 14 Treason and Exile

Harry scurried across the savannah, making his way back to Pride Rock, to alert the rest of the Pride of Scar and Zira's treachery. The events of the past few hours still played over and over in his head: the realisation that it had been Scar who had betrayed Richard, Simba caught in the stampede, Scar throwing Mufasa to his death, and his mentor's last words…

Scar! That traitorous sack of dirt was the cause of all this trouble. Richard dead; Mufasa dead; and Simba was probably dead as well. And now that scoundrel was home free to claim the throne? No, sir! The only thing he would be getting would be a fair trial for high treason and murder, so that he may be punished in a manner befitting a backstabbing, slimy coward of his calibre. And he would be the witness to expose the scheme; if Scar thought he was in the clear, he was in for a big surprise.

Night had fallen by the time the majestic rock loomed into view. Harry anxiously quickened his pace; Scar had a good hour start on him and was probably back already, undoubtedly telling his version of the story to the rest of the Pride. It made Harry's blood boil to think of him delivering the funeral speech of his own victims and then assuming the throne he didn't deserve…

_The nerve of that bastard won't do him any good_, Harry thought with a smirk, _He is going down before this night is over!_

As he approached Pride Rock, he saw there was a meeting going on; Scar and Zira were on the stand, with all the lionesses assembled before them. Harry was just about to make his presence known and yell Scar's treachery in front of everyone, but a sudden impulse told him something was wrong. Taking cover behind a large boulder, he strained his ear to listen to what was going on.

"…Mufasa's death is a terrible tragedy. But to lose Simba, who had barely begun to live…" Scar said solemnly, putting up a perfect act as the mourning brother, who was suddenly faced with the dilemma of assuming his dead brother's position as king. Sure enough, Harry could hear soft sobbing as the Pride grieved for the deaths of their King and Prince. Sarabi was the worst of all, her usual strong and calm self reduced to a poor, grieving wreck of misery. Sarafina stood by her side, all the while trying to reassure a distraught Nala sobbing between her legs. Harry pitied them, disgusted by how that monster shamelessly stood before them, offering his supposed condolences; but Scar's next words made him real glad he hadn't revealed himself just yet.

"Unfortunately, my poor brother always saw grace in those around him; but enemies are always lurking restlessly behind every mask. It seems that today's tragedy is the work of non other that Mufasa's closest trustee: the Royal Guardian himself!" Expressions of outrage and disbelief broke out among the spectators as Harry heard Scar name him as the culprit. Mufasa's last words slowly dawned on him as he realised that, even on the brink of death, his mentor had been wise by warning him that Scar wouldn't be taking any chances.

"It seems Harry blamed my poor brother for Richard's death and intended to seize the throne in revenge," the evil lion explained, putting up a wonderful performance as the key witness to the murder. Beside him, Zira backed up her mate's story.

"Scar and I both caught him in the act; it was only because we chose to try and help Mufasa first, that the traitor escaped and isn't here to answer for his betrayal. Unfortunately, we were too late to save him or Simba…" Harry could swear he saw the sly Zira wink at her mate, satisfied that by deciding to use him as their scapegoat rather than kill him outright, like they had done the others, was successfully diverting any suspicion away from them, leaving them free and clear. Harry, on the other hand, without witnesses or evidence to back him up, would inevitably be taking full blame for the incident, in which case, he'd be lucky to get off with banishment from the Pride Lands, let alone expose Scar's plot.

"In spite of Harry's attempt for the throne, the Great King of the Past are still watching over us," Scar went on, "The Pride Lands will not be falling into the hands of a traitor, and Harry has now thrown away his place with us and fled into exile. But if he ever returns, he will be dealt with accordingly…" Harry was heartbroken to hear several cries of agreement from the lionesses, realising that Scar's lies had taken firm root into their minds. He was on his own now.

Slipping into the shadows of a rocky alcove, he sunk to the ground in silent defeat. This time, Scar had planned it all too well; he had nothing to prove to the Pride he was not to blame, and that the true culprit was currently stealing the throne right from under their noses. Any attempts he made to approach the Pride and protest his innocence would be met with threats of death; even the photographic plate revealing Scar to be Richard's murderer was back at the cave and beyond his reach now, not with the Pride on the lookout for him. He cursed; if only Zira had intercepted him a few seconds later, he might have had a chance of telling Sarabi or someone else about the plate, putting them on alert…

It didn't take long to dawn on him that he was in quite a fix. Completely cut off, technically exiled, from the Pride Lands, he was now alone, with absolutely nowhere to go. He would have to leave soon, before he was caught trespassing; but without equipment and supplies, how could he make his way back to civilisation? All he had was his revolver – nearly empty -, his sword, and his binoculars. He had no supplies, no navigational instruments, nothing of what he needed for a long journey. He could vaguely remember that hidden path leading off the plateau, mentioned in Richard's journal, but even if he could somehow find it and make his way down, how on earth was he supposed to march north by the stars, across 350 miles of open desert, to M'zab, without supplies? He'd never make it…

Mufasa's last words played themselves over and over in his head: '_Don't forget your duty as Royal Guardian towards the Pride._' Some Guardian he was turning out to be… He had let himself be bested by two traitors and now he couldn't even expose their scheme, to deliver them to justice. Richard, Mufasa and Simba would never be avenged; nobody would ever know the truth… Unless…

Suddenly, as if inspired by his own miserable thoughts, Harry suddenly remembered what Mufasa had been blabbering about just before he died. Something about having seen Simba flee in disgrace, escaping Scar's wrath… Although it sounded more like the ravings of a dying lion, Harry suddenly realised he was missing something; if Simba was dead too, then where was the cub's body? Then again, why would he flee at all? Why didn't he come back to Pride Rock, to his mother?

_Oh, wake up Harry!_ he thought reproachfully, _That cub is dead; there was no way those two would let him walk away alive, if they were to claim the throne. Most likely they intercepted him and did him in somewhere else, so no one would find the body… But what if there is a chance in a million, Mufasa was right? Maybe I should…_

"Harry?"

Suddenly, he was caught off-guard by a familiar voice calling his name. Turning, he saw a tearful Nala, who had run off when Scar had announced Simba's death, to sob away her misery alone, only to bump into the supposed murderer of her best friend, hiding out at her favourite secluded spot! For an instant, they both stared at each other in surprise. Then Nala turned to flee; but Harry was faster. Lunging forward, he grabbed her in a bear hug, clapping a hand over her mouth before she could scream. The cub struggled tooth and nail, thinking he was about to strangle her or something and Harry had to shout to make himself heard.

"Nala, wait, calm down! I am not trying to hurt you! I just want to talk to you! Please!" Finally, the cub stopped struggling and held tense in his grip. Relieved, Harry, whispered in her ear, "If I let you go, you promise not to scream, not to run, and listen to me?" The cub slowly nodded but, from her violent trembling, Harry could tell she was scared to death. Could he get her to see reason and help him? After all, she was his only hope left… And if he blew it now, it would all be over…

Gently putting her down, but positioning himself in front of the opening of the alcove, in case she panicked and tried to run, he turned to face her. The cub was staring at him fearfully and with an expression of utmost loathing, Scar's lies undoubtedly having had their impact on her as they had with everyone else. She backed away, against the rocks.

"Are you going to kill me like you did them?" Her young voice was filled with so much fear, so much pain, so much disappointment, so much _hate_, it made Harry feel as if he was being stabbed through the heart with an icy knife. Pulling himself together, he knelt down before her.

"Darling, I know you probably won't believe me, but I swear I didn't betray Mufasa; Scar is the traitor! He and Zira are after the throne. They had been plotting to murder Mufasa and Simba all along, so Scar could legally assume the throne as the last surviving heir…" As he had feared, Nala didn't believe him.

"How do I know you are not bluffing to trick me?" she shot back, looking nonetheless surprised at Harry's accusations. His patience wearing thin, Harry wanted to yell at her that he had seen Scar murder Mufasa in cold blood, but his mental defences held firm, and he refrained from doing so, realising it would only do more harm than good. But how was he to prove that his word was true? His thoughts were interrupted by an angry growl behind him.

Turning, he saw a furious Sarafina glaring at him, her eyes mad as a snake's, her ears flattened against her head in fury at the sight of him. Her once friendly disposition towards him was now replaced by precisely the kind of reception Harry had expected when he had first laid eyes upon the Pride all those months ago.

"Get away from my daughter, you monster!" she snarled, barring her teeth and unsheathing her claws. Even as he let Nala pass, Sarafina continued to advance on him, looking nothing less than a wild animal preparing to strike an unwelcome intruder, and no longer the docile, anthropomorphic lioness he had known as his friend.

"How could you Harry? After all Mufasa and the rest of us did for you, this is how you repay us? How dare you even show your miserable face here, you heartless bastard…?" she spat, about to spring at him, Harry finding himself unable to formulate any kind of satisfactory response. He was spared however of finding himself on the receiving end of Sarafina's wrath, as Nala came to his rescue.

"Mother, please!" she begged her, "Something's wrong. He says Scar is the murderer…" Sarafina seemed caught off-guard by her daughter's words, yet her eyes never left Harry; could this human be lying to save himself? Although she didn't trust Scar or Zira one bit, Mufasa had always reassured them that, in spite of their misgivings, they would never dare pose any threat to the Pride. Then, reminding herself that she owed Harry her daughter's life, she ought to at least hear what he had to say. She turned back to the man, her expression still stern and suspicious.

"What happened out there today?"

Relieved that she wouldn't be turning him in just yet, Harry told the two lions everything; the photographic plate, going to warn the others only to be intercepted and lured away by Zira before he could talk, the stampede, catching Scar red-handed trying to kill Mufasa, being knocked out before he could intervene, and Mufasa's last words to him before dying. By the time he was done, both lionesses looked horrified. It was obvious that, given the circumstances, Scar would be the first to gain from this tragedy and had every reason to turn traitor; Harry, on the other hand, had nothing to gain, as he had been placed last in line of succession. And there was more.

"Are you saying Simba might still be alive?" asked Nala, her former excitement suddenly restored. Sarafina however, realising that they were in far worse trouble than they realised, with Scar now in control of the Pride Lands, spoke up.

"Harry, you have to come forward at once, tell the rest of the Pride what's going on…" But Harry, remembering what Mufasa had said, shook his head.

"No, I can't, not yet…" At the looks of surprise and outrage the two lions were giving him, he explained, "Scar is probably expecting me to try and come forward; that's why he's using me as a scapegoat, to keep me out of the picture. Even with the two of you backing me up, the odds would still be against me. And if anything happens to me now, there will be nobody left to stop him."

"Then what exactly do you intend to do?" said Sarafina incredulously, "You can't just sit back while a murderer sits on the throne as our king!" But Harry, thinking things over and determining the best – and only – course of action, reassured her.

"I have no intention of stepping aside and letting that scoundrel and his bitch have their way; I, for one, now know he killed my brother, and he's going to pay for it with his life! No, I intend to follow Mufasa's last instructions: find Simba – if he's still alive – and bring him back to help prove Scar's guilt. And that's where I need you." The two lions looked at him curiously.

"I saw some tracks leading out into the desert," he explained, "That's where Simba has probably fled. I'll need my brother's pack if I am going to go out there after him…" At this, the two lionesses looked horrified.

"You're going out into the _Outlands_? You'll never make it…!" It was common knowledge among the Pride that the Outlands, which covered much of the western side of the plateau, was a most inhospitable place, filled with lairs of savage rogues, which often raided the Pride Lands for food, in addition to the natural hazards that quickly took their toll on anyone lost out there. That's where convicted exiles were often banished to, either to die, or join up with the Outlanders if they were lucky. But Harry would not be swayed now.

"All the more reason to get this show on the road right away," he said, "Simba is out there all alone. How long do you think he can hold out on his own in that desert?" Finally, Sarafina agreed and hurried to get Richard's backpack from Harry's quarters, taking great care not to be seen by anyone else. She returned a moment later with Richard's battered backpack.

Always wanting to be prepared for the unexpected, Harry had made sure to keep his late brother's journal, navigational instruments, tools, a full canteen, and a three-day ration of pressed dates handy in the pack, ready to hit the road at a moment's notice. And now that moment had arrived. Taking a quick inventory of his arsenal, making sure he had everything he needed, he heaved the heavy backpack onto his shoulders, preparing to set off on his rescue mission. Nala and her mother were staring sadly at him, undoubtedly thinking they would never see him again.

"It's all right," he said, picking Nala up for a hug, "I will be back soon; and I'll bring Simba back too. It is A bit of a gamble, but I want you to know that I am doing this off my own back. I may have failed Mufasa but at least I can protect his legacy."

"Good luck," Sarafina said, giving Harry a friendly nuzzle, "I'll talk to Sarabi and the others as soon as Scar and Zira are asleep about all this; we'll all be ready to stand at your side when you come back…" But Harry stopped her. Dangerous talk can kill, like his fellow officers on the Front used to say, and he couldn't risk provoking those two butchers again until they were all ready to overthrow them.

"No, you must not tell anyone – especially Sarabi – anything yet. Scar has already claimed the lives of two victims; if he were to find out that you've been talking to me, you'd both be in trouble, maybe even putting your lives in danger. He might decide to have you killed or torture you for information, and I don't need any more unpleasant surprises waiting for me when I return. When the time comes, I will give the word; until then, this meeting never happened. You understand?" Sarafina wanted to argue, but realising it could mean putting her daughter at risk, she agreed to keep quiet about it.

"Hopefully, I will be back in a few days. We'll make this spot our secret rendezvous place; make sure you come and wait here for a while every night, at midnight, so I can have someone from the inside to meet and update me on the situation here. And, for goodness' sake, make sure you are not being watched." Bidding them both goodbye, the soldier turned and marched away, into the sunset, towards the Outlands.

Nala and Sarafina watched Harry depart, until he vanished into the distance, before returning to Pride Rock. In spite of their worry however, their spirits were greatly restored, now that they knew their Prince might still be alive and that the Pride Lands stood the chance of not being plunged into a new dark age, under the leadership of an ineffective king, whom they now knew was also a killer and traitor to them all.

As they made their way up to the den, they found themselves face to face with non other than Zira, looking as bad-tempered and arrogant as ever, now that she was Queen, "Where have you two been all this time? King Scar hasn't got all day to reassign duties to each member of the Pride individually!"

"Patience Zira! Nala is real upset about Simba; as her mother, I have an obligation to…" Sarafina said, but Zira cut her off with a furious growl, which made both lionesses jump back in surprise. Zira sure wasn't wasting any time in enforcing her abusive nature upon them with her new authority, just as Harry had warned them.

"That's _Queen Zira_ to you, you ill-mannered wretch!" the evil lionesses snapped emotionlessly, "What's more, speaking the names of our former King and Prince is treason, or weren't you listening to the new stature laws being passed, because you were too busy comforting your weakling of a brat?" Sarafina felt a burning rage build up inside her at this cruelty and injustice, any doubts about Harry's story finally fading from her mind, but refrained from talking back, mostly for Nala's sake. If Zira was indeed an accomplice to a murderer, she couldn't risk getting into her bad books so soon. Smirking at her silence, Zira went on in a softer, but no less threatening tone of voice.

"Now listen you two, because I only give a warning once. There are going to be some changes around here; from now on, everybody is expected to fulfil their duties promptly and satisfactorily. Whatever freedoms or privileges the former King ever allowed you, you can forget them. Every member of this Pride now lives for the sole purpose of enforcing the will of the new great King Scar, who will be bringing discipline and order to this disgrace of a Pride we once were. Is that clear?" Sarafina merely nodded, fighting the urge to snarl back in Zira's face that her game would soon be over.

"Good. Now get inside the den. There is a safety curfew for the night, until the human traitor is apprehended. Sarabi will bring you up to speed with tomorrow's hunting rounds…" Sarafina shuddered; maybe Zira already knew? Was this curfew meant to prevent any further contacts with Harry? Not that it would make it any easier for her to make the rendezvous, now that she knew everybody would be kept on a tight leash and watched…

Sure enough, Zira had indeed suspected something when she had noticed Sarafina leave the meeting to go comfort her daughter and taking so long to return. Their brighter spirits also hadn't gone unnoticed by the evil lioness, making her realise that they had indeed been up to something. Scar had warned her that the only remaining loose end was that accursed human and, while he was now but a minor threat, Zira couldn't help but feel that he might turn out to be a too great a thorn in their side if not dealt with more directly.

Shrugging it off, she also returned to the den, to celebrate her coronation night alongside her beloved mate. The Pride Lands were finally theirs to rule and nobody would take the throne from them now; their heirs would be continuing their noble bloodline into a great and glorious future that would endure forever. Whatever secret Sarafina and her brat were hiding, she would personally be keeping a close eye on them until she found out what it was, and then deal with it properly…

Harry's trek through the Outlands began more or less uneventfully; after some searching, he had found Simba's fading tracks leading out into the desert, just as Mufasa had told him on his deathbed. Overjoyed, he hurryingly made his way across the border of the Pride Lands, just before the sun went down. Stretching out before him was an endless, blood red stretch of barren sand dunes; a death trap created by nature in the form of an ocean of sand.

_Hang on Simba. I'm coming for you…_

Lighting a torch and taking a heading with his compass, he started walking, following Simba's trail to nowhere. The desert had soon grown bitter cold but Harry was fine with it, his trench coat from the Front keeping him warm. He hiked all night without incident, but finding no signs of Simba, dead or alive.

By the next morning however, his troubles had started; at sunrise, the cold of night was soon replaced with intense heat, turning the sand dunes into an open oven. With no shade anywhere, he was covered by the sky, the searing hot sun beating down on him like a furnace with no end, as he sweated away more water than what he was drinking. Now Harry realised that it would have been suicide to attempt to trek to M'zab, even if he found a way off the plateau; he estimated he had only covered about fifteen miles overnight and was already close to collapse from the heat. In spite of his building fatigue and worsening sunburns, he pressed on, knowing he had no choice.

On the afternoon of the first day out, his skin all red and cracked from sunburn, and down to his last sip of water in his canteen, he was beginning to think he was either searching in the wrong direction, or otherwise looking for a dead cub. So far, he had seen nothing but sand and the occasional mirage, either in the form of a man, an oasis, or even Mufasa or Simba, as his mentality told him he was slowly crashing. What could have caused that cub such desperation as to drive him out into this godforsaken place, in effect to dig his own grave? With the sun beating down on his burned back like a raging flamethrower, he pressed on.

Climbing over yet another dune, he saw the desert turned all rocky up ahead; beyond those clamps of rocks, the road finally dead-ended on the edge of a cliff, overlooking the endless Sahara Desert almost a mile below. He had reached the edge of the plateau, from where he could go no further, and still no sign of Simba.

A sense of desperation swept over Harry at the sight of this dead end; Simba couldn't have gone any farther that that, which meant he could be anywhere out in the desert, probably lost and going round in circles. His hopes that the cub might have been ravelling in a more or less straight line apparently had been wrong. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

In a last ditch effort, Harry climbed a nearby rock, to get a better view of his surroundings. Nothing. Just miles and miles of open desert with no signs of life anywhere. Some fifty miles to the east were the Pride Lands, where Sarafina and Nala were waiting for him to bring Simba home so they could turn the tables on Scar and Zira; only he was out here, half-baked by the sun, getting dehydrated, and with zero chances of finding that cub's body to bring back to his mother, much less find him alive. He, himself, he knew, was dying; unless he turned back for the Pride Lands right away, he'd become the latest victim of one of nature's most effective death traps, following a torturous ordeal of death by heatstroke, dehydration and madness.

Suddenly, almost as if from divine intervention, he spotted something amidst the clamps of rocks where he stood. For an instant, he thought it was just another mirage caused by the desert; but no, it was there, clear as day. If it hadn't been for the ugly scarring Shenzi had given him, as the cub's golden brown fur blended in perfectly with the terrain, he would have walked right passed and missed him. Simba lay in the sand only a few yards away. Mufasa had been right!

Uttering a roar of joy, which made his drying throat ache, Harry hurried over, stopping dead in his tracks as he glanced at the cub's state. It wasn't a pleasant sight; Simba's once-smooth fur was bristling with sunburns, his lips cracked and shrunken from dehydration, displaying no signs of life. It seemed he had just kept on going, until he had come to the edge of the cliff but with no more strength to turn around, had collapsed there in exhaustion, to die.

Harry wasted no time; picking up the unconscious and nearly lifeless cub, he darted into the shadows behind some rocks, out of the killer sun. Feeling the cub's throat, he detected a faint, yet definitely real pulse; Simba was still alive and breathing! But for how much longer? Minutes? Seconds?

Hurryingly reaching into his backpack, he took out the bottle of liquor he had saved for just such an occasion. Placing Simba in his arms like a baby, he brought the bottle up to his mouth, moistening the cub's cracked lips in mankind's most ancient medication. The first few tries had no result; then, as he proceeded to pour some more down the cub's throat, Simba suddenly started coughing and spluttering, finally coming back into consciousness. His dry, bloodshot eyes opened slightly, staring at Harry, but didn't seem to recognise him.

Taking out his canteen, he soaked the cub's face and then helped him swallow the last of his water, bringing him away from the brink of death where the desert heat had left him. The young Prince was in a bad way but he would live – if Harry got him to safety soon. Taking his jacket, which he wore tied around his waist to keep cool, he wrapped Simba up in it, making him as comfortable as possible for the trek home. Exhausted, hungry and thirsty, and feeling close to collapse himself, he realised it would be a long shot making it back to the Pride Lands now that he had no water, but he couldn't give up now.

Taking a new compass reading and setting his course east, he was just about to start marching homeward, when a quick glance at the horizon froze him in his tracks. Coming straight towards them was one of the desert's most feared hazards: a sandstorm. Like a massive wall of moving sand, the wave of death was coming their way full force, with them standing totally exposed and helpless in its path.

Harry shuddered; although he had never served on the field in this part of the world, he knew from the Officers' Training Corps that sandstorms were a deadly hazard to desert troopers. Often blowing at over a hundred miles an hour, the sand could blind a man instantly, causing him to get separated from his companions and die; and that was if the swift-moving sand didn't suffocate him or, in the extreme case, tear his flesh clean from his bones where he stood like a firing sand cannon.

"Great, just what we need now…"

Looking frantically around for any shelter, his eyes fell upon an alcove between two rocks; a collapsed boulder lay across them, forming a small cave in the gap below. This was their best bet. Running for his life – and Simba's – he squeezed inside his makeshift shelter and piled up as many stones as he could find to block out the wind, now delivering millions of grains of hot sand at the speed of machine gun fire.

Covering himself and his little friend with his trench coat, he curled up in the semi-darkness, trying to avoid the sand blowing in through cracks in the stones, hurting his eyes, to wait the storm out, wondering if they would ever be emerging from this shelter alive. Maybe they'd be buried alive under the tons of shifting sand pilling up all around them outside, turning this place into a living tomb? Outside, the storm raged on, indifferent to the two different creatures currently struggling to survive in the midst of its fury…

**Author's note:** Coming up next, a small surprise for anyone who is still reading this. For any LK fans who like Timon and Pumbaa, sorry but their characters are too difficult to get down in writing. The whole story will be AU for a while, but will return to canon later on. Enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW!


	15. Chapter 15 The Oasis Pride

He was floating away into total darkness, with no sense of direction, no sense of time, no sense of being alive… Then a small patch of light appeared in the far distance; he was heading straight towards it, but not so much on his own accord. It kept growing bigger and bigger, until it engulfed him; it was like plunging into a star of heavenly light - the light of consciousness, of _life_…

"Herr Kapitain, can you hear me…? Is he alive…? Wet his lips again Slayn, that's it… Captain, wake up…!"

Indistinct voices could be heard ringing in his ears from all around him, could see silhouettes moving across his blurred eyesight… Slowly, as everything started coming back into focus, Harry realised there were _people_ around him. Where was he? How had he gotten here? What had happened? His mind felt a total blank, his vision hazy and unfocused.

He could vaguely remember digging his way out of the alcove he had been using as a shelter with the unconscious Simba, following the sandstorm, only to discover he had lost his compass. With no water left, and the storm having cleared away his trail, he had desperately tried retracing his steps back to the Pride Lands, marching by the stars and by memory. He had ended up walking around in circles for hours and hours, fatigue and dehydration quickly getting at him and the cub; then he had run foul of another sandstorm, and the last thing he remembered was collapsing…

With great effort, he brought his hand up to his aching head; his face felt like crumpled paper, the dry skin peeling away from his sunburned flesh. Touching his forehead, he felt a wet cloth lying across it. Whoever was beside him apparently had noticed him awake and he suddenly felt the neck of a canteen brought to his lips, pouring cool, live-giving water down his throat.

Slowly, he finally returned to full consciousness and his head stopped spinning, his vision clearing. He was lying on some sort of stretcher fashioned out of cloth, under a canopy of palm trees, out of the scorching sun of the open desert. Standing around him, struggling to nurse him back to health, were several familiar figures, whose faces he thought he'd never see again, believing them to be dead… Despite feeling weaker than a mouse, Harry couldn't suppress a gasp of surprise as he recognised his companions, whose trail he had lost all those months ago when he'd fallen from the balloon, and finding himself in the Pride Lands.

"Sergeant Von Beitz? Mr Stone? Slayn? Mick? Danny?" he muttered, his voice raspy from thirst and lack of strength, "Is that you chaps?" Although sporting several months worth of unkempt hair and beards, not to mention dressed like homeless paupers out of the slums, Harry's men looked hardly the worst for wear for a band of people who had been stranded out in the wilderness without supplies for several months. The stretcher he was lying on was fashioned out of silk, which he realised had to be from the remains of their balloon. The German nodded curtly down at him.

"Ya Herr Kapitain, it is us. But you must rest; you are suffering from severe dehydration and heat stroke. Here, drink some more of this." He brought Harry's refilled canteen up to his mouth again and gave him another sip of water. In the background, Harry noticed, with a smirk, Ayden scribbling furiously in his journal, undoubtedly recording the amazing development of him showing up alive after all this time. Beside him, Corporal Danny Mensh was beaming at the sight of his commanding officer's return.

"It's real good to have you back sir. We thought you were dead…" Suddenly, Harry remembered Simba. Where was his little friend? He turned to Danny.

"Where is the cub I was carrying?" he asked, starting to feel worried. Perhaps he had dropped him in the storm, leaving the sand to carry him away? To his utmost relief, Danny gestured to Harry's left; turning, he saw Simba lying on another makeshift stretcher, being tended to by Mick, who was cleaning his blisters with his hipflask of vodka. At the sight of the cub's grotesquely sunburned body, barely recognisable from all the raw blisters protruding beneath his fur, in an instant Harry was struggling to get to his feet and hurry over, fearing the worst. But Von Beitz and Danny held him down.

"Take it easy Captain," said Danny sharply, "The desert damn nearly killed you. You exert yourself anymore before you've rested and it could be your last. The cub is doing fine; he just needs plenty of rest like you do." Like it or not, Harry had to agree on that; it was a colossal challenge just keeping his eyes open, let along stand. He was grateful when Mick approached him with the last sip of vodka from his hipflask, which he had been saving for just such an occasion.

"Rest now Captain. When you're feeling better, we have a lot to talk about…" But Harry didn't wait to hear the rest of it, as he sunk into a deep sleep, relieved to know that he and Simba had been saved. He felt his stretcher being lifted, as his men carried him and Simba into a tent, also fashioned out of the balloon silk, and then he knew no more. Finally, he was on the right trail of undoing the damage Scar had caused to Mufasa's kingdom…

Simba slowly opened his eyes, wondering where he was. He felt sore and weak, as if recovering from some terrible illness. His sense of smell was picking up strange, unfamiliar scents all around him, and he realised he was no longer in the Pride Lands. How did he get here? Where was here? Why wasn't he in the den at Pride Rock, in his mother's embrace? Slowly, it all came back to him; the stampede, his father's death and fleeing into exile. More memories of his ordeal in the desert resurfaced, as he remembered collapsing under the scorching sun, thirsty, hungry, and exhausted, and then nothing…

As the truth of his situation finally came back to him, he felt a wave of misery overwhelm him; the memory of his father falling to his death before his very eyes, tormenting him without end, he felt the terrible reality of his situation sink in. He would never see his homeland again; he would never see his mother or his Uncle Scar again; he would never see Nala or Harry again either. He was now an exile, a fugitive murderer, guilty of killing his own father! What had happened? Had someone found him and rescued him from the desert?

In an instant, he knew fear; he wasn't ready to meet with others of his own kind just yet, too ashamed to have to explain to them that he was a banished murderer, running away from home to escape punishment. His first thought was to get up and run, back into the desert where he belonged, and find some good spot to curl up and die, all alone, like the worthless filth he was… But his lack of strength made it impossible to even stand, let alone run. So instead, he just closed his eyes and went back to sleep, hoping to never wake up again…

The next time he opened his eyes, he felt a little stronger, but no less miserable. Then, he suddenly realised he wasn't alone; looking up, he saw non other than a sunburnt and battered Harry kneeling beside him, waiting for him to awake. The cub felt his heart sink in anticipation; he had been found and now he would be brought back to Pride Rock, to be made to answer for his crime in front of the entire Pride. There was no escaping judgement after all…

"Welcome back from the dead, lad," said Harry, bringing his canteen up to Simba's lips, giving him a drink of water, "I thought you were a lost cause…" Suddenly, his tone turned serious, "What on Earth were you thinking Simba? Running off into the desert like that? You're damn lucky you didn't end up dried vulture food…!" But, for the first time, Simba looked anything but overjoyed to see him.

"More that what I'd deserve, I'm sure…" muttered the cub miserably, lying back down, refusing to even look at Harry, who frowned; Simba had indeed taken his father's demise really hard, just like Mufasa had said, with no idea that he had in fact been betrayed and framed by his villainous uncle, "So have you come to bring me back so I can be punished? You should have just left me to die out there…" Feeling sorry for the cub, Harry bent down and picked Simba up onto his lap.

"Simba, look at me please," he said, gently tilting his little friend's chin up to face him, "I understand you must be feeling downright awful, but…"

"_Downright awful_?" shouted Simba incredulously, shedding tears again, "I killed my own father! I almost got you and Nala killed too… I have no place among the Pride anymore; I deserve to be alone…"

"…But there is something else you must know," continued Harry, keeping his voice calm but firm, as he held the sobbing cub close, in a comforting embrace, "You didn't kill your father lad; _Scar_ did!" Simba froze, his sobbing turning to an expression of utmost surprise as he stared up at Harry. He had been expecting sympathy - which he didn't want -, but not this!

"What…what are you talking about? Dad was killed trying to pull me out of that stampede. I saw him fall, saw his body…!"

"Then you just missed the real thing," replied Harry, launching into his explanation of how he had caught Scar red-handed, about to kill Mufasa, only for Zira to ruin everything before he could detain the situation. He also told him about the incriminating photographic plate he had found in Richard's camera, showing Scar as the hyenas' secret ringleader, and the murderer of his brother. However, he left out the fact that it had been his own bullet that had ultimately sent Mufasa plummeting to his death, intent on discussing that with Simba later.

"Your scoundrel of an uncle and his bitch have killed your father Simba, seized the throne, and even murdered my brother!" he said angrily, "And if I had only realised their game a little sooner, those two would now be standing trial before a court of justice for high treason and murder!"

Although Simba was utterly dumbstruck at the truth, that both he and his father had been betrayed, it still didn't ease up his guilt, realising that he had, unknowingly, still been used as a mindless pawn by Scar all along. He, the gullible little fool he was, had played right into his evil uncle's scheme to destroy his father! The first time, with the Elephant Graveyard, he had been lucky; but now his stupidity had finally caught up with him and his father had been the one to pay the price. He broke down sobbing.

"All my life, I trusted him, adored him… Why…?" he muttered, feeling so used, so exploited, so _betrayed_, the pangs of shame for his naivety tearing his already broken heart apart. Seeing his distress, Harry held him close again. As a soldier, he knew a few things about psychology; and one of them was the mental trauma caused by the loss of someone real close to you - a common occurrence on the battlefield -, leaving a soldier demoralized and unwilling to carry on. Unless he lessened the damage the terrible ordeal had caused Simba, the cub would never get over it, maybe even leave him a shell of his former self.

"Simba, your father only did his duty towards you," he said, wiping a tear from the cub's eye, "He too refused to take Scar more seriously; even Richard didn't see through that scumbag's lies until it was too late. The ones to blame for all this trouble are Scar and Zira, and they alone. I realise how hard it must be for you to hear all this, son, but you must make your father's sacrifice count…"

"I can't go back!" retorted the cub, sobbing in shame, "What to _you_ know about how I feel, Harry? You've never been used by someone to lead your own father to his death…!"

"Haven't I?" asked Harry hotly, recalling all the times on the Front, when he had seen comrades – officers and foot soldiers alike –, often members of his regiment, drop dead all around him in the midst of enemy fire, "Every time I'd lose a man under my command, I'd walk away with the sheer knowledge that it was _my_ orders that had led him to his death; yet, I refuse to let it get me down. If I do, I put the entire regiment in mortal danger – for which I'd again be held responsible. You and I share more in common than you realize, my fine lad. If you choose to your past behind you, and bury it, you'll be letting your father down, not to mention the rest of your Pride." Although his words seemed to restore Simba's confidence somewhat, it was only a start.

"It was your father who sent me here," Harry went on, explaining how he had found Mufasa on the brink of death following the stampede, who had told him how Simba had fled in disgrace, and assigning him the task as Royal Guardian, of making sure his son reclaimed the throne someday. "I made your father a pledge on his deathbed Simba; and I have every intention of fulfilling it. That's if you're willing to reclaim your throne…"

Simba was staring back at the man with an expression of utmost awe at the mention of his father's last wish; to learn that it had been his father who had sent Harry to his aid, when he needed it the most, to help him in reclaiming his rightful place in the Circle of Life, which Scar had stolen away from him, had definitely boosted his diminished will! It would still take some time before he got over his father's death; but the impact of the lies Scar had fed him, to drive him away, had been undone.

Slowly, he looked up at his newly appointed guardian, "What are we going to do, Harry?"

"Well, for starters, we are going to focus on you getting better," the man said, staring at the cub's fatigued appearance, "When I found you out in the desert, you were halfway into the grave. Once you're feeling better, we will see what…" At that moment, they were interrupted by Danny, who came running into the tent.

"Sorry to disturb you Captain, but the others would like a word with you. Promptly if you please." The moment he had awoken, his men had been eager to bring him up to speed on their situation, but Harry had ordered he'd be given some privacy time with Simba first, to confront the cub with the truth before anything else. Now, the time had come for him to resume his old responsibilities as leader of his group, in addition to being Simba's guardian and protector.

"All right Danny, you keep the lad here company for a while, there's a good chap." Giving Simba a reassuring wink, which the cub returned with his own broad smile, he hurried out. Glancing over his shoulder on the way out, he saw the cub chatting excitedly with Danny, indicating his good spirits were indeed restored once more.

Sergeant Von Baitz, Mick, Ayden and Slayn were waiting for him on the edge of camp. Harry was completely caught by surprise when he noticed that they were in the company of several strange lions – a lion and lioness, and a cub -, also anthropomorphic, just like the Pride Landers. The cub, which Harry guessed to be around Simba's age, was a pale tan colour with deep blue eyes, not unlike Nala, save for a brown fur tuft atop his head. Although, he didn't lack Simba's innocent and playful nature, Harry didn't fail to notice a strange expression of pain and loss deep within his eyes, which he couldn't quite figure out.

The two adult lions – presumably his parents - looked nothing like the cub, with their golden brown fur, similar to the Pride Landers', yet the male had a tar-black mane, not unlike Scar's, rather than Mufasa's bright ginger.

"…So this visitor is really your legendary missing leader?" the cub was saying excitedly to Von Beitz, who, surprisingly enough, seemed very attached to the youngster, unlike the stern, cold-hearted German officer Harry had known during their balloon journey to this strange land.

At the sight of Harry, the chitchat was cut short, as the regiment (including Von Beitz) resumed their old habits as they stood at attention and formally saluted their returned commanding officer. Harry needed a few seconds to pull himself together and remember his military etiquette; after six months of living under Mufasa's rule, where military code was not observed, he was suddenly once again in charge of a regiment of disciplined soldiers awaiting orders.

"At ease, gentlemen," he said, acknowledging each of them in turn and returning the salute with all required formalities, "Carry on." The unknown lion – apparently a figure of authority in these parts - then took charge and addressed Harry.

"Now then, if we've dispensed with the formalities, I believe introductions are in order. I am King Jabari of the Oasis Pride; this is my mate Alijiah, and our adoptive son Mheetu." The lioness nodded her head in respectful greeting, while the cub stared at Harry with an innocent, childish curiosity, which Harry returned with a wink.

"Sergeant Von Beitz and his companions, who have been my guests throughout the rainy season, have been telling me all about you, Captain Van Owen," King Jabari went on; his tone, like Mufasa's, was firm, but non-threatening, making Harry realise they were in good hands, "Your brother's name isn't unheard of in these parts. It is an honour to have you among us. Nonetheless, to observe our long-standing tradition of admitting strangers, my mate and I would like to hear your story first, before presenting you to the rest of our Pride."

"But, your Majesty, with all due respect, don't you think the Captain is entitled to a little more rest before he is ready to tell us his tale?" asked Slayn, "He and his little friend were five feet in the grave when we found them…" But Harry interrupted the Australian's protesting.

"No, I'm ready to talk now," he said sternly, remembering the circumstances that had brought him here in the first place; as a faithful subject to Mufasa, if he was going to overthrow Scar and reinstate Simba as the rightful heir to the throne of the Pride Lands, he would need all the help he could get, aside from having reunited with his men, "As it stands, I also happen to have to report an act of high treason and murder…"

Over the next hour, Harry told them everything that had happened to him after he had fallen from the balloon. How he had been found and taken in by Mufasa's Pride; his struggles to adjust to life among the lions; learning the story of his late brother; the Elephant Graveyard escapade and the defeat of the hyena clan; becoming a favourite of the court; Mufasa's death and being framed for the murder, forcing him to flee in pursuit of the presumed-dead Simba to prove his innocence… By the time he was done, both the King and Queen of the Oasis Pride, and even young Mheetu and Harry's crew, were all staring at him with pity.

"The son of the great Ahadi is well known for his courage and kindness, and his name is well respected among our people," said Jabari, bowing his head in silent respect for Mufasa's passing, "It saddens me to hear that a noble leader of his calibre should join the Great Kings of the Past in such a shameful and outrageous manner…"

"You couldn't expect anything less from such a miserable, low-life, backstabbing worm like this Scar character," said Harry angrily, feeling his blood boil at the thought of Scar now sitting in Mufasa's place, no doubt boasting of his success with Zira, "Mufasa's son is now under my protection and, as the Royal Guardian, as well as for what he did to my brother, I've made a pledge to make sure his father's legacy is not wasted to some traitor. That's why I'm here now."

"A King is forbidden by the ancient Code of the Great Kings to take over another Pride while the true heir to the throne survives," said Jabari sternly, "Unless if it's a case of waging war unprovoked, which is often the dirty, dishonest tactic of rogues, I can't help you in your fight. And even if you can overthrow this traitor Scar, the Pride would be left leaderless, as Mufasa's heir is still too young to assume the throne yet. It's an ancient and sacred law that one doesn't steal another's land and people for himself, least of all another King!"

Although Harry was quite surprised – and deeply impressed at the same time - to hear that the anthropomorphic lions of this plateau held the leadership of a foreign kingdom in such high respect, literally making them even more civilised than human beings, who took great pride in forming alliances with the strong, and waging war, in the name of power, wealth and territory. Where man stood above all animals in the normal world, because of his intelligence and civility, the lions of this isolated world-within-the-world were definitely on the top of the ladder, at least as far as wisdom and honour were concerned.

_If only mankind could learn to adopt this social code of etiquette, the human world would be a far better place,_ Harry thought grimly, wondering if Richard had also learned of this ancient law from Mufasa or Ahadi, and intended to introduce it to the world. But this wasn't the time to be debating over the ultimate doctrine to a civilised society.

Realising that if this Code of the Great Kings was true, then they couldn't expect much outside help in the form of reinforcements; but it didn't really matter anyway. All Harry needed to do was present the still-living Simba to the rest of the Pride Landers, which would instantly turn the tables on both Scar and Zira, especially now that he had his men back on his side. Before they could do that however, some simple charity wouldn't go amiss. As if reading his mind, Jabari went on speaking.

"However, it is a matter of honour that we always offer all possible help to those in need. You represent the name of a great king, and a great explorer too – your brother was the first outsider to learn and appreciate our ways -, and that does you credit. You and young Prince Simba shall receive all possible care and hospitality until he's ready to embark on his mission to fulfil his destiny as future king…on which you will be guiding him as the Royal Guardian, Captain Van Owen!" he added with a smile.

Harry was certain that his luck had changed for the better; he had finally found his men safe and sound, Simba was safe and aware of the truth behind his father's death, and Jabari's Pride would shelter them until the time came for them to return to the Pride Lands and strike back together against the unjust tyranny that had befallen Mufasa's kingdom. Little did he realise at that point that his new mission as the Royal Guardian had only just begun…

**Author's note:** Sorry for the long delay but I was experiencing writer's block, among other problems. Also, I am afraid updates will be very slow until next summer because I am doing my military service. However, I promise I will finish this story eventually! Perhaps, I will be able to submit one more chapter before the hiatus starts. ENJOY AND PLEASE REVIEW!


	16. Chapter 16 Rise of Tyranny

Tyranny and oppression hadn't been long in taking their toll on the Pride Lands, following Scar's rise to power. In direct contrast to Mufasa's firm but caring leadership, Scar's rule was one of pure tyranny and oppression. The lionesses' initial hope that Mufasa's arrogant and inexperienced stepbrother would soon realise that he wasn't cut out to be king and abdicate on his own accord had been nothing more than a pitiful illusion.

Ruthless, sadistic and tyrannical in every way, Scar had wasted no time in reshaping his new kingdom into a regime of absolute control, where unquestionable authority went hand in hand with terror. His first act as king was to use – or, more precisely, abuse – his newfound leadership to introduce a string of stature laws, to eliminate any prospects of rebellion.

Every member of the pride, save for the king and queen, were placed under a non-ceasing curfew and forbidden to leave Pride Rock after dark, under threat of severe punishment; attempting to leave the boundaries of the Pride Lands at any time was nothing less than a capital offence, with no exceptions. Likewise, secret meetings or communications were also punishable offences.

Zira had become her mate's self-proclaimed law enforcer, who supervised everyone and everything regularly, reporting anything out of the ordinary to her King straight away. She'd be found stalking anybody, at any moment, making sure everyone stayed in line, often by means of her own sinister threatening and intimidation if necessary, now backed up by virtually unlimited power, causing fear and unrest among the lionesses. Anyone caught out of bounds, suspected of law breaking, or even caught speaking out against Scar or his rule, would feel her wrath on principal. Scar's own treatment of troublemakers was just as severe; and that still wasn't enough.

Realising that he couldn't possibly retain control of the entire kingdom forever with only Zira on his side, Scar's next move had been a full rearmament of his domain. The very next day following Mufasa's death, the Pride had been horrified when Zira had returned with a group of brutish-looking lions, which some of the elder lionesses knew as the Outlanders; banished lions, mostly former enemies of Mufasa's, exiled from the Pride Lands for various crimes, had now been recalled under the new king.

Scar had declared an 'alliance of unity and prosperity', and then proceeded to organise these brutish rogues into his own personal guard – a task originally intended for his former hyena minions. The Royal Guard was granted full authority over the lionesses, and set about, enforcing Scar's law. The entire Pride had strict orders to obey them, serving them almost like slaves, doing all their hunting, while the males had their free choice of concubines.

Meanwhile, the enlargement of the Pride was also beginning to take its toll on the Pride Lands. With more lions to feed, the lionesses had to bring in twice as much kill daily, putting a tremendous stress on the herds. With their numbers quickly thinning out, the animals were quickly starting to move on; pretty soon, the Pride Lands would be on the verge of starvation. Scar had of course taken little notice of the trouble his rogues were causing, instead warning Sarabi that if her hunting party failed to provide, it would be taken off the lionesses' already limited share of food. For most of the Pride, it seemed that a dark age had started and would only continue as long as Scar lived; but not for everyone.

It had been a little over a week since Sarafina and her daughter had confronted Harry, who had revealed Scar and Zira's treachery to them, under oath of absolute secrecy. True to her word, Sarafina had kept quiet about their meeting and sat, waiting for Harry to return with Simba, to prove Scar's guilt and remove him from the throne. So far, there had been no sign of either of them and Sarafina was quickly beginning to lose hope.

Why was Harry taking so long? Perhaps that human had somehow tricked them and had fled to return to his homeland? Maybe she had helped a murderer escape? Or had he perished out in the desert, looking for Simba, and wasn't coming back? Either way, it was hopeless for them. Meanwhile, there was also the question of keeping their secret under wraps.

Remembering Harry's warning that Scar meant business, Sarafina had warned her daughter to be careful to whom she spoke, constantly reminding her that their lives and freedom depended on their secret not coming out. Despite her childish excitement at the hope of seeing her missing friend alive again soon, so far, Nala had fortunately kept quiet, but Sarafina knew that they still weren't safe. From the moment Zira had almost caught them, she had become their shadow, stalking them everywhere, almost as if she already knew. How much longer was it before she decided to turn them in to Scar?

Sarafina was dying to reveal the truth to the rest of the Pride, particularly to the grieving Sarabi, who had become a husk of her former self, focusing entirely on her work as the new Chief Huntress, speaking to no one, her powerful spirit gone, just like her mate and son were supposedly gone from this world. But, even if she could expose Scar on her own, what chances did the Pride have of overthrowing him, when his Outsider Guard outnumbered them at least three to one? And even if Harry returned with the truth, what good would that do for them?

Tonight was an evening like any other following Mufasa's passing; depression and misery prevailed among the once prosperous Pride Landers, under the shadow of their cruel domineers. The lionesses, in spite of their exhaustion from their long hunt, were dreading the night, when they'd be confined to the den, in the company of their brutish rogue masters, who'd be demanding their company.

There had already been several cases of violent assault, often with fights breaking out between the males over the best lionesses, to which Scar paid no heed. In fact, he had quickly grown tired of listening to any complaints, and had issued yet another law, forbidding any further protesting or demonstrations of any kind, in essence granting full reign of his minions over their slaves. Fearful of having Nala in the den at night among those savage brutes, who had a reputation of harming even innocent cubs out of sheer malice, Sarafina had finally resorted to sneaking her into Harry's vacated cave for the night.

With the rest of the Pride being ordered into the den, so lookouts could be posted at the entrance for the night, pending curfew, Sarafina ushered her daughter down the footpath to Harry's cave. So far, to her utmost relief, Scar and his Guard had paid little notice to Nala's absence, letting Sarafina sleep peacefully at night, knowing at least her daughter was out of harm's way…or so she hoped.

The cave, although so far left untouched, was now gloomy and miserable without Harry's fire burning in the hearth, and with their human friend's absence in general, his abandoned home resembling a tomb. But, at least, it was a sanctuary for Nala. Sarafina entered and placed her daughter onto Harry's empty bed. The cub curled up in the blanket, purring in contentment. Sarafina smiled at her, lovingly nuzzling her.

"Mother, when is Harry coming back?"

Glancing around to make sure no one was within earshot to catch them talking treason, Sarafina turned to her daughter, "I'm sure he's not long coming back, dear. We just have to be patient." Deep down, however, Sarafina couldn't help but feel they were merely dwelling on a dead hope, knowing how slim the chances were of anyone having survived this long out in the desert.

"Think he's found Simba?" continued Nala excitedly, a little louder than she had intended.

"Hush, Nala, keep your voice down…!" Sarafina scolded her daughter, but felt her insides freeze as a familiar oily voice suddenly caught them both by surprise.

"Why tell her to keep her voice down, my dear Sarafina? We'd love to hear everything!" Turning round, with a twinge of fear, Sarafina saw Scar and Zira standing at the cave entrance, flanked by several burly lions, looking thirsty for blood. They were trapped.

"Caught in the act! I knew she was up to something," smirked Zira triumphantly to Scar, narrowing her eyes at Sarafina, a sinister smile on her face, "Thought I wouldn't find out? I can smell a traitor on sight! Now, explain yourself, you wretch!" Seeing that there was no hope worming their way out of this now, Sarafina decided to confront Scar with the truth right there and then.

"How could you, Scar? You lied to us! You told us Simba was dead…!" The king seemed slightly taken aback, wondering exactly how much Sarafina knew, and how, yet managed to keep a straight face, as he tried to salvage this.

"My dear, you are very mistaken. My poor nephew and step-brother were victims of that traitor Harry," he said, his voice sugary sweet, lined with a false expression of sadness, "I assure you I saw everything with my own eyes…"

"Was that before or after you murdered your own brother, you bastard?" snapped Sarafina incredulously, without thinking, furiously spilling everything Harry had told her had happened that night. Scar's sly eyes narrowed in hate; it was clear that Sarafina indeed knew too much and had to be silenced. But first, he had to find out exactly how she had found out, and who else was in on it.

"Yes," he said softly, advancing on her, Zira and the rogues flanking him, "Mufasa always thought I was nothing; but then I showed him! And you know what? I really enjoyed watching him die!" Sarafina and Nala both gasped in shock and outrage at this confession; Harry had been right all along! And, no doubt, now that they knew, it would mean a death sentence for them as well.

"Enough with this playing games!" snarled Zira venomously, "Where is the human? Where is he hiding? Speak up, or your brat will pay the consequences!" At this, Sarafina realised she was beyond the point of return; there were no witness around to help them, and Scar's thugs completely outnumbered them. They were on their own. But, currently, she had only one goal in mind: protect her daughter at all costs. The threat had barely passed Zira's lips, when, with a ferocious roar, the young lioness had leapt in front of her cowering cub, fearlessly facing their attackers, her maternal instinct kicking in.

"You dare touch my daughter and I'll rip you to shreds!"

Scar sneered, "How touching… But, I'm afraid resistance is futile." He turned to his henchmen, still awaiting orders, their expressions sickeningly hungry and gleeful at the prospect of bloodshed, "Finish her off! The cub I want alive!" The rogues began advancing. But Sarafina, who had spotted the small hole in the wall above Harry's empty bunk, which was the window, seized her chance.

"Run, Nala!" she shouted to her daughter. She already knew that she was doomed; the window was barely big enough for Nala to squeeze through, which would leave her trapped in here with those savage rogues, against which she couldn't hope to win. Although she dreaded the thought of leaving her cub alone, she held onto the hope that maybe she could escape and reach safety on her own. And she would provide that chance, even if it meant giving her life to fend off these brutes long enough for her daughter to make a break for it. Nala seemed to realise what her mother meant to do and hesitated.

"But…Mother, what about you…?"

"I'll be right behind you, Nala, just go, please! And don't look back!" cried Sarafina, just as the rogues sprang at her. In an instant, mayhem had broken loose in the cave. The rogues fell upon Sarafina with savage brutality, going for the kill.

Almost as if her legs were working on their own accord, her mind screaming at her to stay by her mother's side, Nala turned and bolted for the window. Scrambling up onto Harry's bunk, she was about to bolt through the hole, when she felt a familiar heavy paw slam down on her tail. She screamed in terror, as she felt another paw forcefully pin her down, almost crushing her in the process.

"You're going nowhere, you little brat!" snarled Zira's sinister voice, who, instead of going after her mother with the rest of the squad, had gone after her personally, intent on not letting anyone escape to talk about Scar's treachery, "Not until you've told us where that accursed human is hiding…!"

Meanwhile, Sarafina was putting up a bold but losing fight. In spite of their many years of malnourishment in their desert lairs, the rogues were fearfully strong, as they were brutal, returning every flow she inflicted ten-fold. Feeling her own blood running down her tan fur from her rapidly increasing wounds, Sarafina realised it was only a matter of time before she met the Great Kings of the past in person – perhaps even her long-lost mate Kamau, and their son Mheetu, who had perished together when the family had been living as wondering rogues out in the desert. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Zira snatch her daughter before she could escape.

With one last effort fuelled by desperation, she tackled the rogue nearest to her, sending him smashing into the rickety table, where Harry had set up his photography kit – including the photography plate of Scar murdering Richard, still lying beside the stop bath. The rogue's heavy bulk sent the table toppling over, causing the corrosive chemicals to spill all over, leaving him screaming in agony as they found him in the eyes. In that moment of distraction, Sarafina broke free of her second attacker, and tackled Zira from behind…

Nala shut her eyes, expecting Zira to snatch her in her jaws and rip her to pieces, but it never happened. Without warning, the evil lioness was suddenly knocked off her feet, leaving Nala free for a split second. Before someone else could make a grab at her, the cub bolted through the hole, but not before casting one last glance at her mother, who, although bloodied and battered, gave her one last encouraging smile, mouthing at her farewell. Unable to watch this horror anymore, she run for her life and was gone.

Sarafina, pinned and helpless, felt her heart soar with relief, seeing her daughter escape – her final comforting thought before Zira seized her by the neck, snapping her spine, killing her instantly. The band of murderers stood staring at the bloodied and broken corpse of their victim, their fur stained with Sarafina's blood. Then, they realised Nala had escaped.

"Well don't just stand there, you fools!" bellowed Scar, "Get after that cub! Bring her back to me, dead or alive!" The rogues, muttering threats and curses, sprang back for the entrance, to circle around Pride Rock and give chase. Scar turned to Zira, who was licking her bloodstained paws clean, "Well done, my dear. I never suspected that little wretch was up to something…"

"So what do we do about this?" asked Zira, gesturing at the mangled body of Sarafina, as if only then realising what they had done. Although there had been no witnesses, with the body lying around, it would be difficult to keep this quiet. "If that miserable human had been talking to her behind our backs, they may have other sleepers…" Scar, however, who had spotted the photographic plate lying cracked on the floor beside the overturned table, looked surprisingly calm, the wheels in his head turning.

"So this is how she figured it out," he reasoned, "It seems our dear Harry – or should I say Richard? – had simply left a little clue behind. But not anymore." With a triumphant smirk, he slammed down hard on the plate, shattering it. The evidence had been destroyed; but, ironically, it had also left Scar with a false sense of security, thinking his little secret was finally safe. He turned to Zira.

"Once you've caught that cub, kill her too," he said nastily, "Then, I want this cave sealed up, with the body; they'll be no one else using this place as a secret meeting place." He turned and glanced at the dead Sarafina, "Whoever asks about her or her cub, they fled the Pride Lands in base betrayal, and are henceforth banished as deserters. Understood?"

Zira smiled at her mate and king, "My love, you are absolutely brilliant." Scar smirked.

"I know…"

Making it to a safe distance away from Pride Rock, Nala heard her mother's death roar coming from inside the cave. The sound chilled her to her bones, as the awful realisation hit her like a stone; she was alone now. With her father and brother lost when she had still been an infant, her mother had been her last living relative, leaving her all alone in the world. Grief and despair flared up inside her, making her wish she had remained by her mother's side and died with her. But her tears couldn't help her now.

Suddenly, she saw the rogues approaching, coming to get her. Torn between running for her life and taking her chances out there on her own, slim as they were, or simply giving up to her pursuers, her mother's last words seemed to boost her diminished hopes, and she chose life. Before the murderous rogues were upon her, she had broken into a run, heading for the border.

Her lungs on fire and her heart pounding from struggling to stay ahead of her swift-moving pursuers, Nala saw the edge of the endless desert up ahead, where Harry and Simba had gone; if she could only make it a little farther, she'd be on her way to safety – or to a miserable, lingering death out there.

Making it to the top of a slope, she stopped dead in her tracks, gasping at the sight of the forest of brambles below, between her and the desert. Behind her, she could hear the rogues gaining in on her fast, screaming for her blood. She was trapped. In her fear, she could almost hear her dead mother's voice calling to her, _You can do this Nala. Keep running. Don't stop; don't look back. Just keep running…_ Suddenly, her legs were once again working on their own accord.

Barely aware of what she was doing, she leapt down the slope, slipping and falling, landing straight into the thick brambles. Her small size – or perhaps her mother watching over her from above - saved her from being skewered by the larger thorns, as she fell through a small gap between the brambles. Ignoring the many exposed brambles tearing away at her fur, shredding her skin, she kept on running, squeezing through every little gap she could find, making for the other side.

Up top, her pursuers, spotting the brambles, came to a halt on the edge of the slope, barely missing the death trap up ahead – or, at least some of them did, by slamming straight into their squad leader's back, who had barely managed to stop himself on the edge. The impact sent the unlucky lion tumbling straight into the bramble patch; and, in direct contrast to Nala, was too big to fall through any small gap.

His companions up on the ledge watched furiously as their companion landed right in the middle of the bramble patch, the largest of the thorns skewering him like nails. For a few seconds, the brute grunted and moaned in agony, struggling to free himself, and then lay still in death. Looking out towards the desert, they saw the cub fleeing into the sunset. For an instant, they were tempted to resume chase, to avenge their fallen comrade; by the obstructing thorns and the sight of the vast desert beyond, held them back.

As far as they were concerned, the cub would be as good as dead out there within a couple of days anyway. Left helpless without her mother, she was running off to die a slow, horrible death from the tortures of hunger and thirst. If she ever found her way back here, they'd take care of her in a heartbeat. Either way, she was done for.

Gloating over Nala's grim fate, the rogues turned round to return to Pride Rock, to inform their king that their job was over and done.

Nala didn't know how long she had been running, before she finally came to a halt, collapsing on the sand to catch her breath. Her whole body hurt horribly from injuries she had sustained going through the thorns, leaving her bleeding and sore. Tears of misery and grief rolled down her cheeks as she thought of her mother, the look on her battered face before she died. It was all because of her; if she had only kept her mouth shut, Scar wouldn't have caught them.

As she stared at her unfamiliar, desolate surroundings, having long since left the Pride Lands way behind her, a new emotion overwhelmed her: fear. Suddenly finding herself all alone, lost in this horrible wasteland, with absolutely no idea where to go, felt utterly terrifying. What would become of her now? Where was she supposed to go? The desert stretched out into infinity in every direction, the breeze clearing away her tracks behind her, making her feel lost.

Before long, the sun had set, plunging her into a new nightmare of darkness. A electric storm front moving in from the north followed shortly thereafter, the blasts of lightning and thunder turning the empty desert into a hellish realm for the cub. Unable to hide from this nightmare by curling up into a ball and burying her head in her paws, a terrified Nala finally lost it.

Breaking into a run, she fled, tearing blindly across the sand dunes in the dark of night, feeling the sand, blowing up in the wind, hitting her like the strands of a striking whip. Screaming hysterically for help, she kept running round in circles, fleeing from mirages of rogues, and hyenas, and Scar, wondering how much longer before death finally found her and dragged her out of this nightmare for good…

**Author's note: **Sorry for the long delay, but my army service leaves me little writing time. I barely managed to complete this chapter as a New Year's present for you, my beloved readers. Enjoy and please review! And…HAPPY NEW YEAR!


	17. Chapter 17 Reunion

Harry sat atop a ridge overlooking the oasis, sharpening his sword. Beside him, the waterfall run endlessly over the edge of the cliff, into the valley below, which was home to the Oasis Pride. It had been nearly a week since their arrival in the Oasis; in the intervening time, both Harry and Simba had recovered nicely from their ordeal out in the desert. Their hosts were all very kind and King Jabari's stepson, Mheetu, had quickly become a good companion of Simba's, and with good reason. As it turned out, the pale tan cub, which had looked strangely familiar to Harry from the start, was non other than Nala's long lost brother.

From the moment Harry had made the connection, the two cubs had become practically inseparable, Mheetu having become something of a substitute for Simba's childhood friend, whom he didn't expect to see again any time soon. Mheetu was just as mischievous and adventurous as his new friend, which quickly made them close buddies. Like he used to do with Nala, Simba and Mheetu would spend their time together, playing tag, exploring the oasis, swimming in the river, or getting into mischief, much to Queen Alijiah's displeasure.

Harry, meanwhile, was slowly getting used to his new role as both guardian to the banished Prince of the Pride Lands, as well as returning to being the leader of his men. Simba's trust and adoration for him, of course, hadn't changed in the slightest, although Harry didn't fail to notice that, with Mufasa dead, Simba now looked up to him as a new fatherly figure. Like he used to do with his late father, the cub would follow him everywhere, as if for protection, listening obediently to everything he said, making Harry feel like a first-time parent. Although, thanks to Harry's encouragement, Simba had soon reverted back to his usual happy, playful self, the seasoned soldier could see that the tragedy had left its mental scars on the cub.

Simba was still the same adorable youngster he knew all right; but now, he was more obedient and more responsible than before, which, in a way, pleased Harry. The naive, daydreaming cub had vanished and, if all went well, he would live up to be the true heir to his father's throne someday, which his uncle had stolen from him.

On his part, Harry had wasted no time in making preparations for their upcoming departure to return to the Pride Lands and confront Scar. While Simba was out happily playing with Mheetu, he and his men would spend hours with King Jabari, listening to his advice. Although Harry figured the task of retaking the throne and prove Scar to be the guilty party would be pretty straightforward once he presented the living and breathing Simba to the rest of the Pride, who had wholeheartedly agreed to testify on his behalf, their host thought otherwise.

Constantly reminding Harry that even if Scar was proven guilty and forced to abdicate, the Pride would inevitably be left leaderless, at least until Simba was of age, Jabari also feared that Scar, suspecting they may still be alive, might have prepared more surprises waiting for them. Aside from exploiting the Pride's fear of being left without a king, to encourage anarchy or even civil war, which could easily tear the Pride apart forever, there was also a strong possibility that the traitor might be recruiting from the outside, forming an army to protect his position in power.

Harry, on the other hand, was confident that, with his men backing him up, they would be able to make short work of any muscle Scar might have assembled in their absence. After all, his defeat of the hyena clan hadn't been very much of a challenge. As part of his plan, he had put his men on a busy schedule of military exercises, to make sure they regained their strength and stamina, rusty after all these months in this oasis paradise, away from the hardships of the trenches which required them to stay in check every minute of every day only to survive. Soon, they would be embarking on the path to another battle, and Harry had every intention of leading a regiment of seasoned soldiers on the battlefield.

Using Richard's equipment, the group of five had begun making preparations. With a shotgun and a pistol as their only firearms, and with precious little ammunition to spare, Harry had ordered the making of spears, bows and arrows, and had his men train daily with their new weapons. Even Ayden, a civilian among soldiers, was urged to train hard along with everyone else. Although definitely a primitive arsenal for men accustomed to fighting with machineguns, tanks and mustard gas, it would suffice, once they were properly trained.

As he sat there, watching Simba and Mheetu playing in the river, taking turns diving over the waterfall, making sure they stayed out of trouble, he mind kept going over another issue that his men had brought up shortly after they had been reunited.

Although life on the plateau was turning out to be a wonderful adventure for all of them, Harry and his men knew that eventually they would have to start thinking about returning to their own homelands. Slayn, Mick and Von Beitz all had wives and families back home and had every intention of seeing them again; likewise, Danny's mother and father had to be waiting for their son back in England. Harry, however, although determined to get his men safely home, wasn't sure if he wanted to leave this place, and wasn't particularly looking forward to their departure.

Bon Beitz had already approached him with an interesting idea: using the remains of the balloon, the German engineer had proposed constructing an enhanced replica of the Wright Brothers' 1902 wind glider, and fly to the nearest civilisation. Harry's men had been against it, more in favour of fashioning simple parachutes to get down from the plateau and then taking their chances by hiking north, towards the coast.

The later idea had been quickly discouraged however when Harry had shown them the notes in Richard's journal; based on his recent experience, even if they could somehow get off the plateau, attempting to brave the 350-mile trek across the open desert, all the way to the M'zab Valley, with their limited resources would be guaranteed suicide. So, they had decided to put their escape plan aside for now and focus on preparing for their mission instead.

Suddenly, just as he was considering taking a break and joining the cubs for a swim, Danny came running through the palm trees, calling his name, "Captain! Sorry to disturb you, sir, but the recovery party have reported a situation out there. They've asked that you come at once." Without asking for any further explanations, Harry leapt to his feet and followed his aid-de-camp towards the edge of the oasis. Simba and Mheetu followed close behind, wondering what the trouble was.

On the edge of the oasis, they could see the recovery party, consisting of Von Beitz, Slayn and Mick, whom Harry had sent out to retrieve the last few remnants of their balloon, which had landed in a rocky outcrop out in the desert, a short distance from the oasis. Von Beitz and Mick were carrying the heavy steel ring that once held the rigging in place; Slayn however was carrying something else, which, from afar, Harry mistook for a baby, wrapped in his waistcoat. The three men were yelling and waving, seemingly for help, although there didn't seem to be any danger around. What was all that about?

Hurrying over, Harry realised it wasn't a baby at all; his party had found another lion cub out in the desert! Harry, Simba gasped in horror as they recognised a fellow Pride Lander, who had, by the sheerest luck, found her way to their oasis before collapsing.

"Nala…!"

"We saved her from the vultures out in the dunes," explained the Australian grimly, "I can't tell if she's still alive though…" Harry hastily ordered Danny and the others to keep the cubs away as he examined the rigid cub in Slayn's arms. It wasn't a pretty sight; Nala's usually pale tan fur was thick with raw blisters, which were beginning to turn septic, the symptoms of the advanced stages of dehydration and heatstroke evident. At first glance, it didn't seem possible that she could still be alive; but as Harry checked her for any signs of life, he found, to his utmost joy, a weak pulse. Against all odds, Nala was still alive! But only just.

Five minutes later, they had made the unconscious cub comfortable in their makeshift tent. Aside from severe sunburns and dehydration, the cub sported several ugly scratches, some of which they recognised as animal scratches, almost as if she had escaped from some unseen attacker. Harry had sent Slayn with his canteen to get water from the river, while Ayden, Mick and Von Beitz were sent to search the oasis for any herbs they could use as antiseptic.

Using a wet cloth, Harry cleaned out the cub's blisters, and then, with Danny's help, carefully poured more water down the cub's throat, struggling to keep her from slipping away where she lay. Simba and Mheetu stood watching in silence, wondering if Nala would live to see another day.

Harry feverously worked, wondering in the back of his mind, what was Nala doing out here? Where was Sarafina? There was obvious evidence of an attempted attack. No doubt she had had a hell of a rough time getting here. Had something happened to them back in the Pride Lands? Finally, having done everything he could, and with Nala more or less stable, they withdrew, leaving her to rest until she could awake and explain.

"Will she be all right, Harry?" asked Simba, looking worried sick. He had already lost his father; would he lose his childhood friend too? But Harry smiled at him encouragingly.

"Don't worry, lad, she'll be right as rain in no time. Mind you, she's damn lucky; another hour out in the desert and we would be digging her grave now…" Beside Simba, Mheetu, who hadn't uttered a word so far, was staring at the sleeping Nala in the tent. Was it really his long lost sister in there? His _sister_. The idea of meeting a living, _blood_ sibling of his felt utterly mind-bogging, given how he had long since given up hope of ever finding his real mother, whom he had lost before he could even remember her. How was that going to affect his relationship with his stepparents, who had officially declared him their heir, following his stepbrother Malka's recent disappearance?

Several hours later, everybody stood gathered around the slowly awakening Nala. The king and queen had also been informed of what had happened and had come to meet the new arrival for themselves. It wasn't long before Nala slowly opened her eyes, staring blankly ahead. Figuring they could use some privacy, Harry ordered everyone out, except for Simba, so they could have a few moments alone with her. The royal family sternly ushered the protesting Mheetu outside, along with Harry's men, as he and Simba knelt down beside Nala.

"Hallo, Nala? Can you hear me? It's me, Harry. Nala!" The cub didn't seem to recognise him. He rubbed her forehead with a wet cloth, trying to get her attention. Slowly, her eyes focused, as she stared back at her friends. Her disfigured face formed into a painful smile of recognition.

"Harry… Simba… Please tell me it's really you…"

"Yes, Nala, it's us. We're here," said Simba, happily nuzzling his childhood friend in a way so intimate Harry was sure he would never do in public back in the Pride Lands. He remembered how Zazu used to tease them about having feelings for each other, much to their embarrassment. But right now, neither cub could care less for any of their childish embarrassments; all that mattered to them now was this happy moment of reunion.

"What happened, Nala?" asked Harry, gently patting her head in reassurance, "What are you doing here? Where's your mother?" At this, Nala's short-leaved moment of joy instantly evaporated and she burst into tears, recalling the awful events that her brought her here.

"They…they killed her," she wept, shuddering violently at the memory of her ordeal, "Scar and Zira, they found out we knew the truth…" Between miserable sobs, she told them of Scar's alliance with the Outsiders and his tyrannical rule, which had transformed the Pride Lands into a dark domain of control and oppression. Harry felt his heart sink at the news of Sarafina's fate, who had given her life to save her daughter's, just like Mufasa had done for his son. Scar's third victim. How many more lives would that butcher claim before he was put in his place?

_I guess old Jabari was right. This isn't going to be a piece of cake at all._

"Mother told me to run for it and I left her behind… I left her to die…" Nala sobbed, burying her face into her paws in shame, "I left my own mother to die…" Harry, feeling for her, picked her up into his arms to comfort her.

"Sweetheart, you didn't do anything wrong. Your mother was simply doing her duty towards you. You made it here safely and that's all that matters. We're all in this together, Nala, and together we'll pull through! You have my word on that." But Nala ignored him, sobbing softly for the death of her mother, her spirit clearly crushed. Harry sighed; Simba had been hard enough, and he knew Nala was considerably more fragile and timid than her friend. How could he possibly help her pull herself together after what she had been through? To his utmost surprise, Simba stepped forward.

"Harry, give us a moment alone, please?" Although Harry was utterly surprised to see Simba, who had only recently experienced the similar pain of his own tragedy, and still struggling to overcome it, offering to try and comfort his distraught friend, he nodded his permission and stepped outside, leaving his ward alone with Nala.

Thankful for some privacy, Simba turned to the sobbing ball of misery curled up on the silken floor of the tent, "Nala, I know exactly how you feel; I've just lost my father to Scar, and the Great Kings know just how much I blame myself for ever trusting him as my uncle. Harry's also lost his brother this way. But you can't give up now; we're still alive and we have to strike back. You have to be strong, Nala. If you can't do it for your mother, then do it for me, please. Our Pride needs us now."

Nala slowly looked up at Simba, her tearful eyes wide in amazement; she had never heard her friend speak with such resolve, such courage, such _maturity_ before. It was almost as if she was talking to a complete stranger. Nonetheless, Simba's encouraging words, which the cub had learnt not so long ago from Harry, had worked their magic as she weakly smiled at him.

"I thought you were dead. I've missed you so much…"

Simba felt himself blush under his fur, his lip quivering nervously as Nala nuzzled him under the chin. She pulled away, giggling shyly, realising what she had just done. The two youngsters stared at each other in silence for a few minutes, before Simba finally gave in and returned the nuzzling with his own, as they both laughed. Childish shyness or not, the happy feeling of at least having each other in this hard time felt most encouraging. Outside, Harry, who couldn't resist peeping through the drapes, smiled at the sight.

Some time later, when the two cubs had rejoined them, introductions were in order. Nala, like Simba, was delighted to meet Harry's men, as well as the royal family of the Oasis Pride, all of which took an instant liking to her. But nothing could have prepared her for the surprise that awaited her when she was introduced to Mheetu.

"Young one, there is something else you must know," said King Jabari, "Despite your mother's passing, I'm happy to inform you that the Great Kings are still looking out for you in your time of need. It appears you still have living family." The cub looked confused; she had never known any other family other than her mother, believing her father and siblings to be long dead. And how was this linked to this strange cub that kept staring at her in utter amazement as if she were a ghost, and who looked somewhat familiar…

"Nala, I want you to meet Mheetu, your long-lost brother!" said Harry. Nala looked as if she had just swallowed a lemon. She stared back at the grinning Mheetu in disbelief, while Simba was doing his best not to laugh at her shocked expression.

"My _brother_?!"

**Author's note:** My sincere apologies for the delay, but I have been experiencing writer's block lately. This chapter, although I understand must be rather crummy, was a nightmare to finish. Now that I have the protagonists together as a group, we move on with their adventures that will eventually lead up to the retaking of the Pride Lands. Enjoy and please review!


	18. Chapter 18 Sky Pirates

Life had taken quite a turn for them, ever since Harry, Simba and Nala had joined Javari's Pride, after fleeing from the enslaved Pride Lands. Aside from finally reuniting with his men, who, he found, had fared remarkably well in his absence, Harry, now being the new guardian of Simba, and, to a lesser extent, Nala, was experiencing the responsibility of a first-time parent. Although never having married or had a family of his own before, he was doing his best to fill in the role of surrogate father to both orphaned cubs.

In the meantime, he and his men were having little luck in working out a sound plan to reclaim the throne from Scar. According to the information he had gotten from Nala, like Jabari had feared, the Pride Lands had become nothing less than a brutes' stronghold, more than capable of repelling or killing anyone or anything that came to drive them out. Likewise, after what had happened to Sarafina, they could expect little help from Sarabi and the rest of the lionesses, which were no doubt under the full control of Scar's army of rogues, if not dead as well.

In spite of their troubles however, there also were a few positive aspects to the situation. Simba, now free of the guilt of having supposedly killed his own father, had finally gotten over the death of Mufasa, and was his old happy self again. And then there was the discovery of Mheetu, which had changed the orphaned Nala's life for the better. Following the tragedy of seeing her mother being slaughtered by Scar's minions, as well as the attempt on her own life, Harry had feared the cub might never recover. But Mheetu had proven him very wrong.

The instant Nala had realised that this youngster was in fact her long-lost brother, she and Mheetu had become practically inseparable, the latter taking up the role of the protective big brother. Now, six months after their reunion, the two siblings and Simba had become a trio of friends, becoming closer than family. The pain of their tragedies entirely extinguished, at times, Harry suspected that their newfound happiness made their desire of ever returning to reclaim the Pride Lands even smaller. He certainly hoped it wouldn't come to that, not while he knew that Mufasa's pride was currently enslaved and under the tyranny of a traitor, who still had to be punished for his crimes.

Meanwhile, the cubs were growing, turning from youngsters into adolescents. Simba had gotten the shock of his life when he had looked at his reflection on the water one morning and noticed his mane was starting to grow, his voice and his roar growing deeper. Likewise, Nala, from the shy, timid cub was slowly blossoming into a beautiful young lioness. Although still shy to admit it, Harry could tell the two young Pride Landers were starting to develop deep feelings for each other, which were bound to come out soon or later as they reached full maturity.

Taking the wise Jabari's advice, Harry had eventually decided to put things on hold for a few more months, until Simba was of age to assume the throne, and for them to think their plans over. So, instead, he and his men had turned their attention to their own problems, namely figuring out some way of escaping from the plateau and returning to civilisation.

With the first anniversary of their arrival on the plateau almost upon them, Harry had finally agreed to go along with Von Beitz's radical plan of building a glider and flying it back across the desert to the European outpost in the M'zab Valley, which was nearest to them.

Von Beitz had drawn up some crude blueprints for the design in the sand, outlining control surface dimensions, drogue coefficients and stress points, which Ayden recorded in detail in his journal. With Jabari's permission, the men cut down a patch of bamboo shoots from the edge of the oasis river, which were used for the framework of the fuselage. Their excessive supply of silk from the balloon wreckage would be used for the 'skin' of the structure. Lengths of dismantled rigging would be woven into rope, to assemble the structure.

In spite of their severely limited tools, the German engineer's ingenuity and the combined hard labour of all five men had soon yielded outstanding results. As part of the plan, they had set up shop atop a ledge on the highest rock peak overlooking the oasis, for a freefall. Within a month, they had finished assembling the infrastructure of the central fuselage, the wings, and the rudder as separate components, and were ready to join them together.

Simba, Nala, Mheetu and even some of Jabari's pride pitched in, helping the men haul materials up to the ledge, where the semi-finished glider was slowly beginning to take shape. It was then, one morning, that something unexpected happened.

The men were atop the ledge, stripped down to their trousers and shoes, slaving away on their glider as they had been doing every day for the past couple of months. A sweaty, sunburnt Danny, his muscles sore as hell, paused for some water. As he brought the hollowed-out coconut shell they were using as a drinking cup up to his lips, his eyes caught site of something sticking out against the clear blue sky.

For an instant, the boy was stunned. He blinked several times, thinking the heat and the exhaustion was making him see things. But no, it was right there, coming straight towards them. The sight snapped the young Private out of his spell of shock.

"Captain! Sir, it's an airship!" he shouted, on fire with excitement, "They've come for us at last! We're saved!" Alerted by the commotion, the others also abandoned their work and stared out towards where Danny was pointing. Harry grabbed for his binoculars, which lay on a stone nearby with his shirt and jacket, and zoomed in skywards. Sure enough, the snow-white, giant sausage-shaped body of a Zeppelin came into view, about a mile above the ground. The airship was descending, apparently coming in to land.

"We have to signal them!" cried Ayden, "Come on everybody, help me pile up all that silk up here! We can set the glider on fire to attract attention! We won't be needing it anymore…" He went for the folded strips of silk they had piled up on the ground, which had once been their balloon, but Harry stopped him.

"Wait, not until I've had a closer look at it." Although overjoyed to see a possible rescue had finally arrived, it had also struck Harry as odd, seeing a Zeppelin travelling through these uncharted regions of the Sahara. Like it was noted in his brother's journal, this place was hundreds of miles off the nearest travelling lanes, so what the blazes was it doing way out here? Was it in some sort of trouble?

Hurrying down to the riverbank to alert the pride, they saw the lions too had spotted the approaching Zeppelin, when it had blotted out the sun above their heads. Sure enough, the large airship came down over the Oasis and landed a short ways out into the desert, somewhere among the dunes.

The king and queen were surprised at the news of the arrival of more human visitors, while Mheetu had been nothing less that ecstatic, having developed a great fondness for Harry and his men. However, Jabari had frowned when Harry had pointed out that something seemed off about that airship and ordered his pride to stay put and of sight until they knew more about these newcomers.

Harry's men stared at their leader in disbelief; they had been stranded on this plateau for a whole year and now that fate had finally presented them with a chance of returning home, he was making them _hide_? What was he so afraid of? Still, remembering their military code of discipline, they refrained from retorting and did as they were told.

With the pride safely undercover, Harry assembled a small reconnaissance party consisting of himself, Danny, Von Beitz and Simba, who insisted on tagging along, reminding him that the man had saved his life enough times already and that he owed it to him to follow him into danger, to 'cover his back'. True, the young Prince had really grown since fleeing his homeland, morphing into a well-built young lion, with powerful muscles, claws and teeth. Although probably still not ready to take on a full-grown lion single-handedly, he was definitely more than a match for a bunch of scavenging hyenas, or in this case, a bunch of potentially hostile humans, so Harry gave his consent.

Using old military cover tactics, the party made their way out towards the Zeppelin, which had been set down a quarter mile out in the desert. Lying on their stomachs, they glanced over a sand dune at the airship, now anchored to the desert floor with mooring lines, yet still floating a good ten feet in the air thanks to its hydrogen-filled bags inside its broad silk body.

By now, they could tell the airship was German, called the _Anschluss_, a typical passenger liner of the skies of that era, probably one of those that made the frequent passage from Berlin to Johannesburg and back. At first glance, there seemed nothing suspicious about it, other than it being so far off course, probably making an unscheduled stop for engine repairs or something. Then Harry, through his binoculars, spotted the flag with the skull and crossbones flying off the edge of the rudder.

"I was afraid of that," he muttered grimly, passing the binoculars to Danny, who gasped. Worst case scenario, they had expected the Zeppelin to be of the German navy, in which case, appealing to them for help would result in them being taken prisoners of war – if the war was still waging back in Europe of course. But this was far, far worse.

"The black flag! Pirates!"

Although very unusual to encounter a pirate airship, the instant they laid eyes on that foreboding flag, Harry and his men knew they had trouble. Pirates, whether sea, land or air, were still bandits, cutthroats, dangerous criminals to the core. And, judging by the fancy Zeppelin they commandeered, they were well organised and equipped. There was no way of telling why they had come to the Oasis; nonetheless, knowing what they were, it was vital that they were not discovered.

Hurrying back to the oasis, they informed the pride of their visitors. It went without saying that they were in a dangerous situation. There was no doubt that the oasis was very appealing to those flying bandits, with its water supply and rich green lush. Maybe they had only landed here for water and repairs; but if they were planning to stay, then the oasis would soon be overrun. If they were discovered, Harry and his men would no doubt be killed, simply for being in their way, or for being Allied soldiers, not to mention the potential harm that could come to Jabari's pride if those ruffians decided to drive them out and seize their home for themselves.

There was little hope of attempting to fight them off. A fully-manned Zeppelin could mean forty or fifty men, all armed to the teeth and dangerous! Their forces consisted of only six men, armed with only a couple of knives and a single revolver with precious little ammunition. Jabari's pride would undoubtedly fight alongside them, to defend their home, but what were the chances of even an army of lions going up against firearms? Things weren't looking good at all. Something had to be done.

"I think it's best if we hide and wait," said Harry, weighing out the odds, "For all we know, they're only passing through. This isn't their territory, otherwise we would have seen signs of them before. Hopefully, they've only come for water and food. We stay out of their way, they'll get what they want and leave."

"And if they decide to stay and take over our land?" asked Mheetu, "What happens then?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted, "However, in my professional opinion, I believe it would be best if we don't provoke an attack unless we have no choice. Our chances of fending off that band of cutthroats are drastically slim, and would do us more harm than good."

"Then that's what is to be done," said Jabari, making up his mind on how to deal with the problem. He turned to his pride, "Those strangers are dangerous and probably hostile. No one is to go near them. Everyone is to remain on his guard until further notice."

Harry turned to brief his own party, "Danny, you and Mick get back up to the ledge as fast as you can and camouflage the glider with ferns. Slayn, you do the same with the tent. I don't want any signs of the place being occupied found, at least not without a deliberate search. They'll be no fires or torches tonight and we'll sleep taking turns keeping watch. And nobody goes anywhere near that airship for no reason whatsoever. Is that clear?"

As the men hurried to carry out their orders, Von Beitz approached Harry, "_Herr Kapitain_, you do realise that we won't be able to hide forever? If those scoundrels decide to – how to your Brits say it, 'make themselves at home?' -, then we'll either have to either confront them or pull out ourselves."

Harry looked at the German Sergeant with pity; he realised it had to be extremely hard for Von Beitz, seeing his own countrymen threatening their group. Having started out as enemies of war, the German had worked real hard in the past year to gain the full trust of his companions, an unlikely friendship which now seemed likely to be ruined if things went south for them. Although he trusted Von Beitz not to double-cross them now, and was determined not to allow any old war prejudices from the Front get between him and the rest of his men, he hoped Von Beitz remained strong. They all needed each other, now more than ever.

"We'll cross that bridge when to get to it, Sergeant," he said, trying to sound as appeasing as possible. Suddenly, an idea sprang to mind. He had read a few things about the structure of Zeppelins, including the large amounts of highly-volatile hydrogen gas which made the airship float… He turned back to Von Beitz.

"If someone could sneak onboard after dark and start a fire, what would happen to the airship?"

Von Beitz whistled aloud, "Is so much as a single spark makes contact with the buoyancy bags above the crew cabin, the entire Zeppelin would be incinerated instantly. It would literally glow like a new star. All it would take would be a gunshot fired into the envelope at close range. But anyone who tries this madness is not likely to make it out alive…"

"I could try," piped up Mheetu. Harry couldn't help but silently admire the young lion's courage; although obviously a foolish gesture to prove himself, with little idea of what he would be going up against, he definitely had daring. Nonetheless, Harry could not allow him to endanger his life with a suicide mission.

"No, it's far too dangerous. Forget it, lad." Mheetu glanced at his step-parents, hoping they'd give their consent. But their firm stares made it perfectly clear that they fully agreed with Harry's plan. There was to be no boarding party.

"What about the ship's Marconi?" suggested Ayden, "Instead of sending someone to blow himself up in an attempt to take those cutthroats out, how about if someone could sneak onboard and send out a CQD on the ship's telegraph? Frankly, it would be a lot easier if the Royal Garrison at M'zab could send out a rescue to find us, rather than us trekking across that godforsaken desert to them…"

"We don't even if that airship has a wireless," said Harry, "And at any rate, I can't endanger the lives of the people under my responsibility. If one of us gets captured, those scumbags might torture him for information on the rest of us… No, I'm sorry Mr Stone, but our lives are more important than being rescued."

Unfortunately, nobody noticed Mheetu, who was staring in the direction of the Zeppelin over the trees, the wheels in his head turning with a reckless idea…

Later that night, both the Pride had finally drifted off to sleep, fearful and vigilant. The Oasis was dark and silent, as no fires had been lit. Harry had ordered Von Beitz on the first watch, while Jabari had a couple of his lions patrolling the edge of the oasis for any signs of the enemy approaching. The usual cheerful atmosphere of the evening was a thing of the past. Now, everyone slept with one eye open so to speak, not unlike in the trenches back on the Front.

So far, there was no sign of the pirates invading the Oasis. Harry, Simba and several others had taken turns watching the Zeppelin from afar all afternoon. The villainous crew had unloaded water casks and other pieces of equipment, which they had piled up on the sand a short distance from their ship, but otherwise hadn't stirred from their lair. However, it was fairly obvious that they would be coming down to the oasis in the morning. That was of course, unless someone took them out first, now that all the bad eggs were still in their basket...

Pretending to be asleep, Mheetu glanced around him and saw everyone was fast asleep. Even Von Beitz, who was supposed to be patrolling the oasis, was nowhere to be seen, apparently having wondered off somewhere for some reason. This was his chance.

Noiselessly slipping away from his oblivious step-parents, he silently made his way out of the hovel which served as their den. Creeping past the other members of their pride, sleeping in twos or threes around the valley, he made his way towards the edge of the desert.

The Zeppelin was still out there all right, the windows of its passenger compartment illuminated. With his sensitive hearing, the young lion could hear voices conversing onboard in incomprehensible German. By the look of it, thinking they had no neighbours, the pirates hadn't bothered posting any guards, leaving the coast clear. A gangplank provided the only way up to an open access hatch, into the ship. It was perfect.

Before Mheetu could take a step forward however, he was caught off-guard by a familiar feminine voice which spoke over his shoulder, "Where are you going, Mheetu?" It was Nala, who had noticed her brother slipping away and had followed him. Mheetu sighed; he had hoped to do this alone.

"Nala, I have to do this. We can't just hide and hope that those hostile outsiders will go and leave us alone..."

"And just what do you hope to achieve by going out there, Mheetu?" snapped Nala incredulously, remembering the last time how she and Simba had nearly gotten themselves killed by disobeying their parents and venturing into the Elephant Graveyard. If Harry hadn't been there to save them… She couldn't just let her newfound brother make the same mistake! "You can't take them out by yourself…!"

"I don't intend to try and carry out Harry's suicide plan," replied Mheetu reassuringly, "I'm only going to spy on that lair, to see what their plans are. Even if we can't fight them, at least we can try and learn the inside track on what they're up to…" Although obviously a more reassuring plan than a suicide mission, Nala still didn't like it one bit.

"I've already lost Mother; I'm not losing you too, brother…!"

"You know, _Kind_, the young lady has a fair point," said a deep voice, scaring the two young lions half to death. Turning, they came face to face with none other than Von Beitz, who looked just as surprised to find them out here as they were. Mheetu felt his heart sink; the German would now take them back to the pride, maybe tell on them and earn him and Nala a sound scolding from his father for disobeying orders.

"W…what are you doing here, Hans?"

To his utmost surprise, Von Beitz merely answered his question, without demanding to know what they were doing out of bounds, "I'm doing my duty." To his utmost surprise, Mheetu realised Von Beitz was also going to sneak onboard the pirate Zeppelin.

"You're also going in there? Why?"

"I'm going to try and send out that distress signal on the airship's telegraph. The _Kapitain_ is right about these visitors being too dangerous and too strong for us to fight; only with a surprise counter-strike do we stand a chance, and I'm the only one who can be spared to take such a risk." Although Von Beitz indeed intended to try and use the Zeppelin's telegraph to call for help, he also had other plans in mind, which he had conveniently not mentioned to Mheetu or Nala. Nor was he going to.

Ever since he had found himself dragged along on this grand adventure to the far side of the world, although having been granted his wish and not treated as a prisoner of war, Von Beitz had had a hell of a hard time fitting in with his Allies companions. True, they didn't scorn or mistreat him, but his past of being a soldier in the service of the atrocious Keiser caused bad sentiments to simmer beneath the surface, fuelling distrust and resentment, even from many of Jabari's pride. Only young Mheetu and Jabari himself had seen past his faults and accepted him without fear or distrust.

When he had first entered the war in 1914, Von Beitz had proudly marched to the Front with his men, to defend his homeland and to serve the great Keiser. Although he obviously didn't approve of all the terrible new weapons of war which his country had amassed during the Arms' Race, like the chemical warfare or bombs, like every seasoned army officer, he knew the harsh code of war: either fight or die. He was a proud German officer, who'd gladly lay his life down for his country; but since coming here, he had had a long time to think and reflect on his actions.

Now, thinking of his part in that terrible war made him feel dreadfully ashamed for himself and his country. Although disciplined enough not to show it, deep down, the German felt at a loss as to how he could possibly atone for his past. The arrival of this pirate airship, commandeered by his own countrymen nonetheless, was only bound to make things worse. And that was exactly what he intended to – or rather what he had to – fix.

Once he had found that radio and sent out the signal, he would execute Harry's suicide plan; he would blow up the airship and its entire pirate crew with it. Of course, he would also die in the attempt; but at least, he would be going out with a free conscience, knowing his companions would be safe, rather than live the rest of his life under the Keiser's dark shadow. In his pocket was Harry's stolen revolver, which would do the job nicely. And that was something he had to do alone. But how was he to explain to Mheetu and Nala?

"Then I'm coming with you, Hans," said Mheetu, "You'll need someone to cover your back in there…"

"Me too!" said Nala, also stepping forward, "I'm not letting my brother go out there alone! He's all I've got left!"

Although Von Beitz didn't want the two young lions accompanying him on, what he intended to be, a suicide mission, if he confessed his true intentions, they'd never let him do this, at least not without some serious resistance. Mheetu, in particular, who had befriended him, he knew, would literally have him pass over his dead body if he found out he meant to kill himself out there.

Finally, after some persuasion, he agreed to let Mheetu accompany him onboard, to cover his back, while the two of them managed to convince Nala to stay behind, and watch the Zeppelin from close by. If she heard any sudden commotion break out onboard, then she'd know the two of them were in trouble and would be able alert Harry and the others. And while he could no longer carry out his suicide plan undisturbed, maybe he could send Mheetu up ahead once they had finished sending out that signal, and, the instant his friend was safely off the ship, finish the job.

**Author's note:** Sorry for the delay, but I have been too busy with my army service. Also, I'm currently working on my first beta job, co-writing the new edition of _Crossing Boundaries_ with Hewylewis. Well worth checking out! ENJOY AND PLEASE REVIEW!


	19. Chapter 19 Repel Boarders!

Mheetu and Von Beitz silently made their way towards the moored airship, keeping a sharp lookout for any guards the pirates might have on watch. To their good fortune, they saw nobody, the pirate crew of the Zeppelin apparently having seen little reason to post any lookouts; after all, whom did they expect to find out here in the middle of nowhere, on a plateau which didn't even exist on the map?

Crawling underneath the pilot house, housed in a cab hanging underneath the main gondola built inside the silk body of the airship, they found the forward access hatch. The flight deck was illuminated by electrical lights powered by the onboard propane-fuelled generator, but deserted. No night watch. A rope ladder and a pulley for lowering cargo trailed down from the open hatch.

Von Beitz grabbed hold of the ladder and went up first. Glancing over the edge of the open hatchway, he saw the flight deck wasn't completely deserted; a man dressed in a dishevelled petty officer's Kriegsmarine uniform lay curled up in a corner beside the helm, snoring loudly, the stench of whisky coming from his breath, a smashed bottle lying on the floor at his feet. Obviously, security wasn't on the pirates' top priority list, which was good news for them. Another ladder led upstairs into the main gondola, from where they could hear the sound of drunken singing, laughter and chatter in rapid German.

_Deserters from the Front_, figured Von Beitz grimly, glancing at the sleeping sailor's uniform. Using the pulley, he lowered the rope down to Mheetu, who grabbed hold of it with his teeth, so the man could hoist the young lion onboard like a sack of potatoes. Glancing out one of the cab windows, Von Beitz saw Nala standing a short distance away, in the shadow of a nearby dune, watching their progress. He gave her the thumbs-up.

Keeping absolutely silent, they began searching for the telegraph. The wheel-house was fitted with the two helms – one for course correction and one for trim -, flight instruments, chart table, voice tubes, and the telemotors for sending commands to the engine compartment in the back, but no telegraph.

"_Scheisse_, it must be upstairs, in the passenger compartment," Von Beitz whispered to Mheetu. Gesturing to his friend to stick close to him and keep quiet, the pair made their way up the ladder and into the main gondola.

Upstairs, they found themselves in a passageway that run the full length of the airship. Doors leading to staterooms, once intended for wealthy passengers, lined the passageway, like compartments in a train car. Although not as good as a cruise liner, the airship accommodation had a touch of aristocratic luxury to offer, with carved panelling, carpeting, and with crystal light fixtures lighting up the passenger section. The typical ride for thrill-seeking aristocratic travellers of those days, built in Germany – only now it had become the ride of the first breed of sky pirates.

Von Beitz gestured at a deck plan on the wall, "All right, we're here on the edge of the stairwell," he whispered to Mheetu, "The wireless is up front, in the navigation room. To get to it, we need to follow this corridor, through the smoking room, and into the forecastle. Let's go, and not a sound!"

Tiptoeing, man and lion made their way forward along the gondola, all the while keeping their eyes peeled and their ears unclogged for any unpleasant surprises. Soon, they came to a closed door which led to the airship's lounge. They could hear the voices of the pirates conversing loudly inside, oblivious to the two intruders onboard their ship.

From what Von Beitz could grasp from the wild chatter inside, they were indeed Germans, former infantry soldiers from the Keiser's army. It seemed the war had ended months ago, with the Allies victorious; Germany had fallen and was now under Allied occupation, being forced to pay war reparations. The Keiser had fled into exile; but to avoid capture by the enemy, these renegades had deserted the frontlines shortly before Germany had fallen, escaping on this Zeppelin they had highjacked from its airbase outside Berlin. These deserters, under the command of a certain Captain Heinrich Fritzer, a Kriegsmarine officer, finding themselves in command of one of the most sophisticated aircraft of the era, had been sailing the skies as pirates ever since.

Fritzer had organised and trained his new crew to run the Zeppelin, using it for air raids on villages and trains along the coast of North Africa, and even on merchant ships throughout the Mediterranean. Using the stockpile of weapons and munitions the Zeppelin had been transporting to the Front when they'd seized it, Fritzer and his crew of forty would attack any easy targets they came across, highjacking merchant shipments, looting towns and villages, and killing anyone who stood in their way.

In spite of their success, and the further prospects of this rewarding new life of crime they had made for themselves, Fritzer had soon realised they couldn't rely on their Zeppelin forever. They needed to find some isolated place out in the wilderness, where they could settle up a permanent base of operations. While scouting the depths of the Sahara for an oasis, by lucky chance, they had stumbled across the plateau. Impressed by its high cliffs, rich vegetation, and the fact that it was in the heart of the uncharted regions of the desert, where no one would ever find them, Fritzer had found the perfect location.

Von Beitz stared grimly at Mheetu. Things couldn't get any worse; these scoundrels meant to stay, so there was no hope of lying low until they pulled out. At daybreak, Fritzer would send a scouting party down, to explore the oasis; Javari's lions would be killed or driven out, and their land would be seized. Harry's group wouldn't be any better off; once the pirates realised they had a bunch of stranded Allied soldiers around – the same people who had led their homeland to ruin -, they could expect no mercy. No doubt, Fritzer and his men would see this as an opportunity for retaliation, to settle their scores with their country's former enemies. If they were caught, they'd all be killed without mercy. Unless Von Beitz acted first…

"We have to get to that telegraph and send out the distress signal," the German whispered to his lion friend, "I'm going to crawl up into the envelope and try and get across to the forecastle without those scoundrels noticing; but I need you to get out of here fast, go back and warn the others. Tell your father, they must evacuate everyone from the oasis by dawn, before these wretches send their exploration party…"

"Wait, what about you? I'm not leaving you here!" hissed Mheetu incredulously. Von Beitz sighed; the young lion was beginning to realise his true intentions. But if he was going to carry out his suicide mission, he had to get Mheetu off this damn ship first. Gently, he pulled the lion prince into an embrace.

"Mheetu, as a friend, I've never asked you to take an order from me before, but this time I must insist; you, yourself, promised you'd obey me without question when I let you tag along." Remembering his promise to his human friend, Mheetu half-heatedly relented.

"You promise you'll be all right?"

"Of course, _mein Kind_," said Von Beitz, trying to hide the sadness in his voice, knowing this was probably the last time he would ever see Mheetu. After all, if all went according to plan, he'd be dead in the next ten minutes or so. But Mheetu needn't know. "You get back outside and get Nala; I'll join you through the window once I've sent that message. No time for arguments now, just go!" He was utterly glad when, this time, Mheetu obeyed without argument and turned back towards the stairwell that led down to the bridge cab.

Satisfied that Mheetu was finally out of harm's way, Von Beitz returned to his mission. Climbing up onto an h-girder that held the gondola attached to the main fuselage, he reached for the ceiling. There was no access hatch, so he had to punch through the thin wooden panelling to get through into the envelope. Luckily, the pirates, all lost in the midst of their drunken partying, didn't hear anything.

Crawling up, Von Beitz found himself inside the massive, silk-lined cylindrical body of the airship, housing the twelve hydrogen-filled buoyancy bags that kept the airship aloft. By means of compressed air pumped into the inner balloons inside the buoyancy bags through hoses, the airship would descend; when that ballast air was purged, she would rise, aided by her stabilizers, rudder and engines. Simple physics, simple math. A narrow catwalk contrived of light aluminium h-section girders formed a triangle-shaped utility gangway for the riggers along the spine of the upper gondola.

Noiselessly, Von Beitz made his way forward along the blimp, trying not to think of all that highly flammable compressed hydrogen gas lying dormant inside those buoyancy bags all around him. The striking of a single match in here would trigger the birth of a new star – an inferno that would instantly annihilate both the ship and its villainous crew in one foul swoop, before they even knew what had hit them. But not until he had found that telegraph.

Making his way up to the nose cone, he found a hatchway leading down into another compartment – the chart room, housed in the forecastle. Making sure the forecastle was deserted, he climbed down into the dark navigation room. Inside a cramped cubicle in a corner of the room was the wireless.

Von Beitz wasted no time. Sitting down in the operator's chair and turning on a light, he studied the equipment strewn out on the table before him: a battery pack, tuners, induction coil, spark-gap, earphones and keypad, which formed a two-way Marconi telegraph transmitter, which sent and received messages in Morse code.

Throwing the power breakers on the wall and cranking up the juice, he turned to the transmitter. Grabbing some scrap paper and a pencil, he jotted down his message in the form of dots and dashes: CQD – ALLIED SOLDIERS STRANDED. SHADOWED BY BANDITS. NOTIFY BRITISH EMBASSY, ALGIERS. URGENT. LOCATION: 350 MILES SOUTH OF M'ZAB VALLEY.

Tuning the telegraph to maximum transmission range, he got to work, tapping his message across in rapid Morse. He saw the spark-gap light up with an electric spark, indicating he was on the air. He would know his message had been received if someone answered back.

The first few tries yielded no results. The distress signal was on the air all right; but because the plateau was so far out into the desert, there were way out of the 150-mile range of the telegraph. Perhaps there was no station that could hear him? But Von Beitz couldn't give up now. Enhancing the frequency best he could, he tried again. Finally, he struck gold, when he heard the buzzing of an incoming reply, faint but very real.

"…_FORT NAMOUS CALLING UNIDENTIFIED OPERATOR. PLEASE REPEAT NAME AND LOCATION…_"

_Namous_, thought Von Beitz, struggling to listen to the operator on the other end. That was a small oasis with an oil well and a British garrison in the north-west, on the edge of the Libyan border. He had gotten through! He was so preoccupied with his work however, that he didn't hear a figure enter the chart room. Before he could get out a response to the Namous station, he felt a rough hand grab his shoulder and rip the earphones off his head.

"Who are you? What are you doing there?" growled a menacing voice in German as Von Beitz found himself staring face to face with an angry Captain Fritzer, who had forgotten his box of cigars in the Marconi room and come to retrieve them, only to catch an intruder using his Marconi!

"I said, who are you, rat?" repeated Fritzer, drawing a Lugar in Von Beitz's face, "What were you sending on that telegraph?"

"Good evening to you to, Herr Kapitain," replied Von Beitz, also in German. The pirate captain seemed surprised to hear an answer in his own native tongue and lowered his revolver. Von Beitz didn't hesitate; in that moment of distraction, he grabbed Fritzer by the hair and slammed him hard against the nearby circuit breaker panel. There was a shower of sparks and the German sunk to the floor stiff as a board but not dead, merely stunned by the electrocution.

"Herr Kapitain, is everything all right in there?" called another voice from outside the door. Von Beitz cursed; someone had heard the commotion. In another minute, the entire pirate crew would be upon him like wolves for the kill! He turned back to the telegraph to finish sending out his signal, but found it had shorted out when he had slammed Fritzer into the breaker panel. At that moment, Fritz stirred.

"Help! Enemy on board! Get him, boys!"

Hearing the sound of more pirates coming to their Captain's aid, in one last desperate attempt, Von Beitz grabbed Fritzer's discarded gun and aimed upwards, towards the ceiling, preparing to fire. In another second, a stray bullet would hit the hydrogen bags and this pirate airship and her villainous crew would be history and his friends would be safe.

"Halt! Drop the weapon!" bellowed another voice, as several men burst into the chart room, armed with Thomson submachine guns, trained in the direction of Von Beitz. Muttering a silent prayer, Von Beitz shut his eyes and pulled the trigger – which would have spelled out the doom of everyone onboard if the gun hadn't produced an insignificant _click_, unleashing no inferno. At the worst possible moment, the chamber had jammed! In another second, a hail of bullets from the Tommies sent him crumpling to the floor in a pool of his own blood and liquefied guts, as his own countrymen gunned him down.

Captain Fritzer stared at the dead man bleeding out all over his ship. Where had this stranger come from? Who was he? His frayed uniform told him he was of the German Army; but what was a German soldier doing out here in the middle of nowhere? Judging from his failed attempt to blow up the ship, it was clear he hadn't come aboard with good intentions. Could he be a spy or a bounty hunter tracking them down? Maybe he had more accomplices out there, preparing more unpleasant surprises?

Sure enough, suddenly, one of his men shouted, "Sir, someone's outside the ship! There, on the edge of those dunes!" The pirates crowded at the windows, firing blindly out across the sand. Fritzer caught a glimpse of a lone figure against the moonlight, which, from afar, looked like a lion, darting over the nearest dune and out of sight, heading towards that oasis in the distance. He picked up Von Beitz's message which the German had left lying on the desk. A single glance told him all he needed to know. He crumpled the note in his fist.

"Get this ship up!" he ordered, "Lieutenant Kohl, sound the alarm! Tell that damn engine room crew to get back to their posts and take us up now!" His men hurried out to carry out the order. So, there were a bunch of stranded Allied pigs out here. Well, they didn't need this kind of company. Those soldiers had to be dealt with if they were to settle down on this plateau. He turned back to Kohl.

"We'll keep the ship airborne till daybreak. When it's light, we'll come back and flash them out!"

"What if it's a trap, sir?" asked the hard-faced Lieutenant, "If we send out a raiding party into that oasis, a sniper could pick them off one by one. We don't even know how many of them are down there…"

"There's no need to fight them on the ground, Lieutenant Kohl," replied Fritzer calmly, "We'll _force_ those lowly swine out of their hidey-hole with gas and then gun them down once we have them out in the open. A quick and clean job." As it happened, they had a stockpile of mustard gas canisters onboard, enough to gas a whole town to death. Against this, even a small army of men were helpless. The Allies had regularly used gas against the Germans in the trenches; so what better poetic justice than to use their own weapon against this scum now? With a bit of luck, the oasis would soon be theirs for the taking…

Nala run as fast as she could, dodging the gunfire coming from the Zeppelin. She had heard the commotion onboard and realised there was trouble. Then, before she knew what was happening, the whole pirate crew were firing on her from the gondola windows. There was no sign of her brother or Von Beitz.

Unable to help them now, she turned and bolted for her life, narrowly avoiding being gunned down herself. No sooner had she made it to a safe distance, than she turned around, screaming for her brother, "Mheetu! No, Mheetu, please answer me!" But her brother was nowhere to be seen.

Burning guilt swept over her as she sunk to the ground in shock and despair; first her mother, and now her brother. Why had she let him go onto that accursed ship with Von Beitz, when she knew it was dangerous? Looking back out into the desert, she saw the Zeppelin's engines power up and the ship rising into the air, with her brother and Von Beitz still onboard. They were both gone.

"Nala!" Turning, she saw Simba, Harry, his men, and members of Javari's pride, who had heard the gunfire running out to investigate. Simba reached her first, "What happened? What were you doing out here?"

Mheetu…Von Beitz…they're gone…" Nala could only mumble between sobs of grief, gesturing in the direction of the airship, now airborne and disappearing into the distance at full speed. Little did they realise that while Von Beitz was indeed dead, having completely failed his mission, Mheetu was a completely different story.

Onboard the moving airship, Mheetu quietly made his way along the inside of the main gondola. Rather than listening to Von Beitz and getting off the ship when he had told him to, the young lion had instead slipped away, taking cover in a deserted stateroom, listening to everything that was going on up front. It was from there that he had heard the gunshots and Von Beitz's death cry. Then, he had felt the airship leave the ground, as the pirates made a hasty withdrawal, unknowingly taking him along for the ride.

With no way off the ship now, he made his way up into the gondola to hide and wait. He had overheard the pirates say they were going to attack at dawn with everything they had; and his job would be to carry out Von Beitz's original mission: find a way to destroy this ship with everyone onboard, to save his pride, and his sister still down there…

**Author's note:** Sorry for such a long delay! Finally, the story is off hiatus and ongoing once again. As a Christmas treat to all my beloved readers, I've prepared an update for each of my stories. Enjoy, do take a few minutes to leave me a review, and have a jolly MERRY CHRISTMAS!


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